For Nightwing
by Culinary-Alchemist
Summary: Nightwing's eyes tried to focus on Batman, but this task was proving to be difficult, he drew in a breath, "Bruce, sorry…" Dick's words were breathy and he struggled to speak, blood dripped down from corner of his mouth, and his faded blue slowly eyes closed.
1. Death of a Brother

It was almost ten at night, and lightly raining. It rained most of the day, but the heavy rain stopped two hours ago. Not that would ever stop Batman and Robin from patrolling the city of Gotham.

Robin was perched on a lamppost, his now signature hood pulled over his head shielding with eyes from the rain. He looked out, the dark street was too quiet for his taste, this was Gotham after all, nothing was ever was it seemed. Midnight was Gotham's be witching hour, the night came be quiet, but then once the old church tower rang out twelve times, it seemed all hell would break lose.

"Fall back, we are going to Bludhaven," Batman's voice came over the ear piece Robin used to communicate with his mentor.

This order came as a shock, Nightwing patrolled Bludhaven. Nonetheless Robin followed Batman into the Batmobile. "Father why are we going to Bludhaven?" Robin asked as he pulled up Nightwing's location using the GPS tracker in the vigilante's suit.

"I got a call from Nightwing, he said he needed help." Batman spoke evenly, not informing his son that 'help' was the only word Nightwing actually said.

"Richard called for _you_ help?" Damian cocked and eyebrow and looked to his father worried before pulling up his phone to see if Nightwing had missed a call or text.

"He did, and that is why we are going to help him." Batman replied curtly, thinking over the single word call he got from his first Robin.

"His position hasn't moved," Robin said grimly not taking his eyes off the blinking blue dot, he had been watching it since they left Gotham nearly fifteen minutes ago.

Batman said nothing, he only speed up, while he would not outwardly admit it he shared the same worry Robin had. Ever since striking out on his own Dick never asked for help, not from Batman. From anyone else, Batgirl, Red Hood, Red Robin, even Robin, but never had he called his former mentor.

The remaining ten minute ride to Bludhaven was a silent one, except for the low hum of the engine and the rain lightly falling. Both father and son wished they could arrive faster, but the rain seemed to make all the other drivers forget how to drive, despite rain being common.

When the Dark Knight and The Teen Wonder found the Batman of Bludhaven. The twenty something crime fighter had propped himself against a dented dumpster, that was over flowing. The black and blue clad vigilante was partially lying in a puddle. They could see the trail of blood that lead to this location. His costume was ripped and bloodied, his face cut up, and his black domino mask was missing from his face.

Robin jumped out of the Batmobile and ran to his adopted brother, and knelt down next to him. "Grayson?" he whispered not seeing Nightwing's chest move.

Nightwing's eyes opened slightly, his typical bright cerulean blue eyes were dull, "Robin…you came…" he tried to smile.

"Tt, of course I did you idiot." Robin tried to hide the worry on his face, but he could no longer hold in the worry when Nightwing fell forward. Robin felt himself freeze, he watched as Batman caught the black and blue clad vigilante.

"I got you Nightwing." Batman held his former's side kick's head in one hand and with the other he placed in the small of his back where is escrima sticks were usually holstered. He did his best to asses the vigilante's injuries.

Nightwing's eyes tried to focus on Batman, but this task was proving to be difficult, he drew in a breath, "Bruce, sorry…" Dick's words were breathy and he struggled to speak, blood dripped down from corner of his mouth, and his faded blue slowly eyes closed.

"Don't speak, stay awake." Batman commanded as he felt Nightwing go limp in his arms. Bruce gently laid his adopted son and former sidekick to the ground and checked his pulse, when he couldn't find one he started to perform CPR. Worry filled the older vigilante, he didn't want to lose another Robin, even if Dick no longer went by the name.

Bruce felt his own heart skip a beat when as he tried to get his first Robin's heart beating again. With every compression Bruce gave up hope of Dick's heart starting back up.

"Richard wake up!" Damian commanded kneeling down next to the man who had once been his Batman. "Idiot! I should slap you!"

Bruce tried CPR longer than he would have on anyone else. He stopped, he looked to his current Robin who wore an anxious look on his face, and expression hardly worn by the teen. When Bruce looked down at Dick's face he didn't see the boy— the young man's current features, he saw that of the scared eight year old boy he first meet all those years ago. The boy's cheeks were stained with tears, while his hands were stained with his parents blood.

"Why'd you stop!?" Robin's growling broke Batman from his his thoughts.

"Robin…" Batman spoke softly, quickly regaining composure as he picked Dick's body up from the cold alley. "He's gone." The words stung to say out loud

Damian punched the ground in frustration.

—

The drive to the Gotham form Bludhaven was solemn one, it felt like a funeral procession, like he was taking the boy to his final resting place, Bruce froze, it was. He was taking Dick to his final resting place. Bruce's heart skipped a beat. This wasn't happening, not to Dick.

Robin sat cradling Nightwing's head in his lap in the back seat of the Batmobile. "What the hell happened to you Grayson? Who killed you?" the teen's eyes narrowed. Dick was his Batman when he first became Robin. While Damian would never admit it he shared a bond him, he was brother to him. And now someone took that brother away from him. Damian blinked, he hadn't realized he started to cry. "Damn it Richard…I haven't cried since I was three…"

Bruce could feel his heart break listening to Damian, he wished there was something he could do to take this pain away, but truth be told, he felt the same pain.

Bruce pulled into the Batcave, once he parked he got out of the driver's seat and made his way to the back passenger door, when he opened the door to move Dick's body to the med bay he saw Damian crying softly while stroking Nightwing raven hair.

"I got him Damian," Bruce spoke gently, seeing the teen start to break down now.

"Richard can't be dead…" his words were hallow, there was a eire of disbelieve to the words "WAIT! My Grandfather's Lazarus Pit! Take him there now!" Damian demanded refusing to let his father take his adopted brother from him. "He did everything to bring you back! Do the same for him!" the last sentence was a command, not a request from the brash teen.

"Damian it's not that simple. You know the effects the Lazarus Pit has on some one, you know as well as I do that's not what Dick would want." Bruce picked up his former protege.

"I'll take him myself!" Robin declared exiting the vehicle.

"No," Bruce said simply as he laid Dick down on stretcher, then turned around and knelt in front of son who quickly made his way to his father.

"But this is Richard…" the teen's voice broke.

"I know Damian," Bruce pulled his son into a hug. When the hug broke up Bruce turned away to hide that fact that he was crying himself.

Bruce knew this could happen, he knew he could lost one of his proteges, no matter how well trained they were. He already lost one, Jason, but he came back, with the help of the Lazarus Pit, he was never the same. Sure Jason was always a brush young man, but not like the one he was now. Dick knew this, and he didn't want that, he didn't want to be consumed by the darkness. While he thought about this he made his way to the desk and opened a draw and pulled out a letter. "This is for you." he held out a envelope to his son.

"What is it?" Damian huffed trying to scrub the tears from his face. He looked down at the envelope that had his name on it written in familiar handwriting.

"Open it." Bruce urged, he didn't know the exact details of the letter, but he did know that Dick wanted this letter given to Damian in the event of his death.

Damian took off a glove and opened the letter and read:

 _Dear Damian,_

 _Unfortunately if you are reading this I'm dead. Wow, looking at that word, dead…just makes it all seem so real, so final. I never thought I was going to write a letter like this, not when I was Robin, or Nightwing, but when I was Batman and you were my Robin. When I knew someone was relying on me. I know our relationship is by no means perfect, but it's one I have never regretted._

 _There were a few other kids in the circus, and we considered each other family, but none of them were a brother to me, not like you. If I know you at all you are scoffing right now with that look on your face you get when I say something you think is dumb. You are thinking 'What about Todd and Drake?' am I right? That's a different relationship, not the relationship Batman shares with his Robin, that's a unique one, more than just a brother bond, or an oath you take. It's something deeper, something you can't explain. Something that can't be broken, or taken away, even in death. You will always be my Robin._

 _Even when you eventually take the mantle of Nightwing, yes, I am giving it to you. You are the only one who is worthy of that title. Wear the costume with pride, continue to show Bludhaven they are worth protecting._

 _Good bye Damian,_

 _Richard John Grayson_

The letter fell from Damian's ungloved hand, he blinked then turned around and quickly left the lair, leaving the paper on the ground. Bruce was about to go after him, but he thought it was best to leave him alone. Damian need to grieve his own way.

Bruce bent down and picked up the letter, he focused on the salvation of the letter, and the last few sentences. He folded the paper and placed it on the desk before going over to Dick's body. He pulled off his gloves and touched's Dick's forehead, it was cold to the touch. Bruce felt his throat tighten, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes, releasing the tears that filled them.

Batman crossed the room and filled a basin with warm water and took a clean cloth and placed it on the table by the bed Nightwing was lying on. Bruce then went to a cabinet that held a spare set of clothing for all the boys, just incase, their uniforms were beyond simple repairs to they needed to change quickly into civilian clothing. Bruce pulled out a white undershirt and a pair of boxers. Then he started the process of cleaning the blood off of Nightwing.

Bruce was auobrsed in thought, he now had to think about planning a funeral, contacting C.C. Haly, coming up with a way to explain Dick Grayson's death…

"Master Bruce?" Alfred asked walking into the med bay watching Batman and breaking the billionaire form this thoughts.

"Yes Alfred," Bruce didn't look up, his voice quite and monotone.

"Master Damian is telling the truth then." Alfred could not bring himself to say the words. The butler looked down at the pale young man the lay on the stretcher in a tattered bloodied uniform.

"He is," Bruce dipped the cloth into the bowl and continued to clean the blood off Dick's face.

Alfred walked over to Bruce and and placed a hand on Bruce's. The towel fell from Bruce's hand, he turned his head for the first time looking up at the man who raised him showing his tear stained cheeks, "Dick's gone Alfred…he's dead…"

Alfred picked the cloth up and started to wipe away the blood. "Go be with Damian, he needs his father." The long time butler knew his master well enough not to press him any more, he was a man of few words, and a grieving father. Alfred knew this feeling from when he lost Bruce. It was a feeling he would never wish even on his worse enemy.

Bruce nodded and left the Batcave to find Damian, when he found his thirteen-year-old son the boy was laying face on the couch. Bruce knelt down next to the couch and placed a hand Robin's shoulder.

Felling his father's hand hand he spoke, "Father…I want to my break my vow…I want to avenge Grayson's death…if you won't bring him back to life…"

"Damian, sit up." Bruce said abruptly.

"No," the teen said in defiance into the pillow.

"Fine then listen." Bruce knew Damian was not acting like himself, the teen didn't know how to grieve, he didn't know how to show emotion, he was trying to push it away, find a way to make it go away, but in reality he couldn't, "I know you know Dick better than anyone, you were his Robin, even before you were even mine. You know his every move and plan of action, you can know what he's thinking just by his movements, or the look in his eyes. Now tell me, knowing Dick would he want you to kill for him?"

"No…" Damian admitted, "he'd come back to life just to yell at me and then die again…" he spoke in a mater of fact tone.

Bruce gave a soft chuckle, he knew the comment was not intended to be funny, but he knew it was true. He knew how hard Dick worked with Damian, and the bond they shared. Damian was closer to Dick than any of his other adopted brothers.

"Why do I feel like this? I knew this could happen. I have full understand of death, and how to deal with it, but why I am crying like this? I have tried to force myself to stop, but I cannot. I knew from a young age that I could lose people…"

"You have never lost anyone you truly care about." Bruce informed his son filling in the words as the teen's words trailed.

"Damn it Grayson, I'm going to kill you for making me cry…"

Bruce smiled again and rubbed Damian's head, the teen didn't even fight him on this action.

—

Bruce could not bring himself to tell Jason, Tim, and Barbara the news of Dick's death over the phone, or to repeated himself three times. Instead he called an emergency meeting.

When three arrived they were instructed to meet upstairs in the kitchen. Damian was sitting at the table with the hood of his black sweatshirt pulled over his head and his arms folded and his head resting on his arm, he didn't say a word to either of the former Robins or Batgirl. This did not surprised anyone, what did was seeing Bruce arrive to speak with them was very causally dressed, he looked tired, and worn.

"Where's Golden Boy?" Jason asked with a yawn. He was in a pair of jeans and wore his signature brown leather jacket and white t-shirt underneath it, he smelt of cigarette smoke and alcohol.

"It's not like Dick to be late," Tim agreed, he was simply dressed in a zipper down sweatshirt and a Superman t-shirt.

"Take a seat," Bruce instructed his students.

They all obeyed what they were told, and it was at this time a sense of dread fell over them. Their's eye's sifted to Damian who hadn't moved or said a single word, meaning he knew what was going to be said.

"Bruce what's going on," Barbara asked gently. Her hair was pulled into a messy bun and she wore and oversized sweatshirt and leggings with purple Converse sneakers.

"At ten o'clock last night, Robin and I received a call from Nightwing requesting some aid. Upon arriving to Bludhaven we found Nightwing heavily injured. When he arrived, there was nothing we could to, he has succumb to injures. Dick Grayson has died."

Barbara gasped and covered her mouth, he green eyes wide in shock.

"Let me guess, you're not going after his murder?" Jason jumped out of his chair and looked Bruce in the eyes and waited for the answer.

"Jay," Tim said, "now's not the time for this conversation." he jerked his head to Damian who still hadn't moved or said a word.

Jason took a deep breath, Tim was right. Now wasn't the time bring up his displeasure in not going after the Joker after his own death.

"Did he suffer?" Barbara asked, thinking about her former boyfriend.

"No," Bruce said despite not knowing.

"Do you know when the funeral will be, can we help?" Tim asked.

"I am planning the funeral from Friday, and of course you may help." Bruce replied.

—

Jason looked down at Dick lying dead on the bed. Even dead he looked perfect.

"You had to show me up one last time? Just know this, you come back I will kill you. You can't do this to us. I don't hate you Dick...ah damn it...I owe a lot to you...just don't tell anyone or I will kill you. If it wasn't for you I'd probably we dead...well dead and not brought back to life...you know Bruce was crazy when you quit? The man fucking kidnapped me...okay fine I was trying to steal the hubcaps to the Batmobile...I would have done that anyway, but what would happen if you were still Robin? You giving up like that saved me...again tell anyone and you're dead. Ya know, I saw the Demon Spawn begging Bruce to take you to the Lazarus Pit..." Jason sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "It's not you...this life...this anger...I told the kid that...he wasn't happy that I...and I can't believe I'm saying this...agreed with Bruce...he was pissed that I didn't take his side...the kid's messed up. Hell we all are. Bruce is taking it hard...he won't show it, but I know. I'm going to miss you...you are the best big brother I never wanted…God damn it Golden Boy…You come back I'm killing you…" Jason rubbed his eyes. He slouched forward and left on his bike, fitting his signature red helmet on his head. He wasn't going to let this murder get away. Bruce may have let the Joker live his death, a choice to this day he didn't agree with, but he is not going to give Bruce the option of letting the man who killed Nightwing the chance to live.

—

Tim licked his lips and then shoved his hands in his hoodie pocket. He buried both his parents, and now the person who was like a brother to him. He remembered when he first saw Dick, he was walking with his parents to the tent. Tim's parents asked Dick's to take a picture with them as it was Tim's first time at the circus. Dick had put his arm around the younger boy and smiled. Tim had always treasured the picture, and it became even more special when he came to know the other boy in the picture.

Tim then watch Dick fifty feet in the air smiling next to his parents. His parents were performing first, but he never saw Dick fly that night. What happened next, was an event that shook him for a long time, for a solid week Tim had dreams his parents died in front of him, and the dream would reoccur everyone once in awhile for years to come, to this day.

The third Robin pulled the photo from his pocket and looked down at the picture in his hand. It was officially the last photograph of the Flying Grayson's together, well this one was a copy. Tim gave Dick the original long ago.

Dick was the catalysis for Tim to discovering who Batman and Nightwing were, the picture he kept for so long, made him remember seeing billionaire Bruce Wayne consoling the traumatized child.

Tim remembered begging Dick to go back to being Robin, Batman needed him, he denied him, and then something strange happened, something Tim would never expected to happen Dick bestowed the mantle of Robin on him. Tim did it on one condition, Dick sign the old photo. Dick did it and then promised him a private lesson on the trapeze.

—

Barbara could not bring her self to go into the Batcave and bid good bye to Dick. It just seemed so final, she couldn't do it, she didn't want it to be real.

Dick Grayson, that's how she first meet him. The goofball of a kid who was orphaned and taken in by Bruce Wayne, little did she know that the boy she was instructed to show around Gotham Academy would become so much more to her. Barbara couldn't stand to think about it. She remembered the car ride to their senior prom, her dad made Dick sit in the front seat. He gave her, her first kiss, he was her first boyfriend.

She trained then alongside the acrobat and Bruce when she took up the self-made title of Batgirl. They always had a (mostly) unspoken competition, but in the end Dick was the chosen one, and she was along for then ride, until she proved herself in the eyes of Batman, but despite this, their friendship never faltered.

—

Damian paced around the Batcave, he couldn't bring himself to look at Dick, but he had to talk to him.

"You weren't supposed to die you idiot. We were supposed to be Batman and Robin again…who will be my Batman now when my father retires? Todd? Drake? I don't want them, I want you back. I don't want to be Robin under a third Batman, I want to go back to being your Robin, even if you said I can be Nightwing."

Damian made his way to the case that held Dick's Nightwing uniform and mask. Damian touch the glass and looked at the costume. Soon it would be his. Sure Dick gave him the mantle of Robin, but there were Robins before him, Jason and Timothy, and technically Drake allowed him to use the name Robin while he switched to the new monicker Red Robin.

Becoming Nightwing was different, he would only be the second Nightwing. Grayson specially passed the mantle onto him, and it was clear from the letter that Grayson wrote he put thought into passing on the mantel of Nightwing. At some point Dick sat down and decided that when the time came, if he died he wanted him, Damian to be the one who took over Nightwing.

Damian reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded picture. It was of selfie of Dick grinning with the Batman cowl on and Damian with his hood up and giving a half smile. The teen gently tucked the picture into Dick's hand before he left. "Don't show that to anyone."

—

"After Jason I never thought I would have to do this again." Bruce looked to Alfred. "he was my first son, I understood the pain he was in, and then I brought into this life, was I wrong? Should I have discouraged him? No I wanted him to follow this path for the right reason, and not be dark like me…I should have discouraged him Alfred…and then…" his words trailed he lost what he was going to say.

"Master Richard knew what he was getting into, sir. It is not like his former life was any different at the age of eight he was fifty feet in the air and no net, much like the life he chose to lead with you."

"There were no gun or violence, not like this…"

"You cannot blame yourself sir. He is the one who chose to protect Bludhaven—"

"Like how I protect Gotham, not caring about my body, pushing it to it's limits…" Bruce sighed "I can't do this Alfred…I told the boys not to go after Dick's killer, but I am. I am not living with the resentment like I did after Jason's death. I am going to find out who did this and I am going to make sure he is brought to justice, the proper way. He will never leave Arkham…I have failed another one of my sons, first Jason, now Dick. All those years I have missed for Damian, I knew I should not have trusted Talia, and Tim…I pushed his far beyond anyone because of what happened to Jason…no one else…there will be no more Robin once Damian take the mantle of Nightwing. This family, this Batfamily, is done, closed no one else is joining us. I will tell the others if they wish to resign I will not look down on them, or ask them to come back. I am not pushing anyone into the life."

"I beg your pardon sir, but this is the life Master Richard wanted, he could have walked away from from it, gone to university and gotten an education, he's a bright lad. He could have gone back to the circus, they would have welcomed him with open arms, but he chose—"

"To stand by me." Bruce finished, "He was young and impressionable when I took him in…Alfred what if I took him in for the wrong reason? He said he wanted to find his Tony Zucco, and I helped him, I showed him how."

"You did sir, and remember what Master Richard first said? he wanted Mr. Zucco dead, but you swayed him, you kept that boy from being a murder. You know he would have had the skills and the drive to commit murder, you save him from doing that by showing him the better way, the way of justice. Master Richard chose to follow in that way, to follow you. If he did not believe in what you showed him, he would never have continued on. He took your place, he wanted to continue what you started, willing. He took Master Damian under his wing, like you did to him and guided him, showed him there was a different way of doing things, teaching him to be a Wayne. The boy may never have legally changed his name, but he is the embodiment of Wayne, and he is that way because you raised him. You made sure that Master Richard kept smiling, and believing in the good of people. Master Richard may have died, but his spirt will always live on…"

"You told me the same thing when my parents passed away," Bruce said.

"A hell of lot that did," Alfred said, "honor Master Richard, honor Nightwing, continue on your quest, it is what Master Richard would have wanted."

—

Friday came, it was the day no one was prepared for. It was rear sunny May day in Gotham. It seemed almost cruel that they had to lay Dick to rest on such a beautiful day, but at the same time it was almost fitting.

The coffin was sleek black, with a blue stripe that matched the one on his uniform. He was being laid to rest next to his parents.

Dick had become a like a big brother to all of them. If it wasn't for Dick none of them would be on the path they were on now. It was difficult enough to inform the members of the league and Dick's team of his death, Bruce could not bring himself to let the rest of the world know of his first adopted son's death. A cover story was still needed, that would allow Dick Grayson to slip from public view. The story that they were going to use was a simple one, Dick took ill and the family wanted privacy. Dick didn't have a job at this moment in time so that made his sudden illness didn't have to be explained to an employer.

The Justice League, Titans, Teen Titans, and anyone who knew Dick in his life as a superhero came to honor the young fallen hero.

"Bruce, I'm sorry for your loss," Clark spoke softly placing a hand on his friend's shoulder, "you raised a great young man, he will be greatly missed. Dick will forever have an impact on what we do. He will never be forgotten, he was the first side kick, because of him so many of the young heroes here have had the opportunity to held defend their cities, and the world."

"Thank you Clark," Bruce nodded before rising to his feet.

All eyes were on Bruce as made his way to the podium. Everyone knew a funeral like this would happen some day, it seemed like not too long ago they were here morning Bruce, and Dick gave a speech stating that Batman cannot die before taking up the cape and cowl, and now in some sick twisted turn of events, Bruce was speaking at his adopted son's funeral.

"I would like to sincerely thank everyone for coming today. Today we honor Richard John Grayson's life, all parts of it. I am sure you are all aware of how I meet Dick, back when he was eight, after he watch his parents fall to their deaths. I felt great empathy to him as I watched my own parents die when I was his age. When Dick first came to live with my I had no clue how to raise a child, especially one who was angry and in mourning, it was then I knew what I had to do. I had to take him under my wing, and guide him so that he could not be consumed by his anger. He excelled, far beyond what I thought. I know when I started Dick down the path everyone thought I had lost my mind, but he quickly proved that he deserved to be by my side. I never thought I would have to bury one of my sons, again," he gave a brief look to Jason before closing his eyes trying to collect himself. "As much as I think of Dick as a son, he's not my son by blood, and now in his death he is reunited with his parents, where he shall fly forever."

Wally abruptly stood up and fled at the end of the eulogy.

Bruce stepped down the podium as blue lighting zipped in front of him as he walked over to the coffin and placed his hand on it. It was at this moment it seemed real, Dick was gone.

—

Barry went to be with his former protege. When Barry found Wally he was sitting again a tree. His hands were shaking and he had a blank look on his face.

"Wally?" Barry knelt down next to the red head.

"My best friend is dead…" Wally's voice broke.

Barry pulled Wally into a tight hug. "It's going to be okay."

"I just came back…and I lost him again…Maybe…"

"No," Barry said firmly taking a guess on what Wally was going to say. "Trust me, going back is not the answer."

—

Jon slowly made his way to Damian, he was un sure of what to say. "Damian?" Jon tugged at his suit coat.

"Tt, your tie is crooked," Damian said reaching over and adjusting the young boy's tie.

"I'm sorry," Jon said blushing slightly.

Damian turned his head away and he cleared his throat, "thank you…"

—

Everyone left the manor except for the two former Robins and the current one. All three were standing outside. Jason's tie was undone as was the top three buttons on his dress shirt, his suit coat was in a crumpled heap on a chair. Tim and Damian's shirts and ties remained intact although Damian had his jacket hanging on the back of chair, Tim still wore his.

Before Jason discarded his jacket he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and his red lighter. "Timmy can you help us find who did this?" Jason asked leaning against the wall taking a drag on his cigarette.

"Are you doubting my detective skills?" Tim raised an eyebrow, feeling slightly offended.

"No, we are doubting your ability to go against father's orders, Drake." Damian said bluntly.

"Who ever killed Dick is not getting away with it. Not while a former Robin still lives and breathes." the second Robin let out a puff of smoke.

"I agree," Damian nodded swatting away the smoke from the cigarette.

"I do too," Tim said.

Jason took one last drag on his cigarette, "Come on Demon Child, let's got to Bludhaven and get justice for Nightwing." he dropped his cigarette and stomped it out with his foot.

"Right after you Todd." Damian's lips twisted into a smile.

"Wait," Tim said putting his hand in the middle of their small circle.

Jason nodded and put his hand in as well. Damian turned around to face Jason and Tim as he had turned his back to leave.

"For Nightwing."

* * *

 **A/N: I killed me write this, I cried a couple time while writing this fic. I hope you "enjoyed" this look at Dick's death. If you did I would love to hear from you in a review. I would also love favs too. And if this is your first time hearing from me I have two ongoing fics.**

 **I also want to give a shout out to my friends on the Facebook group Batman Writers Unite for reading this one first.**

 **EDIT: I have listened to my readers and I am going to continue this this fic. Because I did not not intend on turning this fic into a multi chapter fic, I did have to make some minor retcons. 1. Bruce kept Dick's death a secret from the public, all the heroes do know that Nightwing/Dick Grayson has died. 2. Bruce chose to bury Dick in the private cemetery on the grounds of Wayne Manor (because of reason 1). So thank you to everyone who reviewed and gave me the encouragement to go on with this fic.**


	2. Now What?

**A/N: Yes I can decided to continue this fic. I had to retcon a couple of things. So you will see a few minor changes. Enjoy!**

* * *

A few hours ago they were burying one of their own and now, they were preparing to investigate his death. Finding Nightwing's killer would not only ensure justice was served but would also be cathartic for those who remained. In their own way, all three grieved the brother they had taken for granted for so long. Like Batman Nightwing was supposed to fly forever. Despite the promise they all had made to not kill, the idea of breathing the vow had crossed their mind minds at least once during the course of the day. Even Tim, who never took a life before, felt the primal urge to crush the life out the murdering bastard who had taken their brother away from them…Taking down his murderer after the fact would have to the next best thing.

All three boys kept a spare costume in the Batcave, even Jason. During the past couple of days and during the funeral, none of them bothered coming down here. None of them had the courage to look at the memorial that Bruce and Alfred had created in honor of their dead. They had failed him and to look on that black and royal blue costume would be like a stab through the heart, but the time had come to face their demon. So, when they arrived in the cave, all stopped to pay tribute to Dick, each in their own way. And as they passed the glass case, each took a turn sliding fingers across the glass on their way to the changing room.

Jason made his way to his locker and pulled out his costume, he even kept an extra brown leather jacket down here, he liked used his regular one better, it was nice and broken it, but he didn't want to venture upstairs and have to face Bruce, none of them did. They may have lost a brother, but he lost his son. Not caring Jason stripped down to his boxers right there and changed, while Tim and Damian opted for the changing rooms. While he waited Jason looked at the locker to his left, it was left slightly ajar. He opened it more, the only things left inside the locker was a poster from Haly's Circus featuring Dick and his parents as The Flying Graysons, and a picture of all four of them all in full costume, for once not fighting, for once they stood together as brothers. Jason could feel a tingling in his nose and his eyes stung. He rubbed at them vigorously. It was no time to get maudlin. He took the picture of the four of them down and put it in his own locker, then he slowly closed the locker the remainder of the way and spun the combination lock that was mounted on it.

Each of the boys mounted their bikes and followed Robin to Bludhaven. It was a quiet ride to Gotham's sister city. They all knew the way to Dick's home city. Each one of them had spent time sleeping on Dick's couch, even Jason and Tim who now had their own places in Gotham. His place was a nice get away when they needed it. Damian would take Dick up on the no questions asked offer to sleep over when ever needed, he did it so often that Dick gave the teen a key so he would stop entering through the window.

"Spread out," Red Robin instructed.

"Who put you in charge?" Robin demanded his eyes fixed on the dumpster.

"He has the most level head," Red Hood stated, "I am going to canvas the street, Robin you _will_ canvas high."

"*Tt*, fine," Damian crossed his arms.

"We need to find his mask and escrima sticks. That will give us a clue as to where the main fight took place." Red Robin explained. "Hood, don't stray more than a few blocks, even Nightwing can't have stayed airborne with the injuries he sustained. Robin head in the direction of his apartment, that is most likely where he would have started his patrol. I am going to stay here and gather evidence. We will not engage in any fights unless absolutely necessary, no killing," Tim looked at both Jason and Damian.

"I vowed Father I would not, I still honor that." Damian spoke evenly, he made the same promise to Nightwing, that was his real reason behind keeping the promise.

"I'm not making any promises," Jason commented inserting a clip of real bullets into his gun rather the the rubber ones he typically used to appease Bruce and his no guns rule.

"This is no time for vendettas," Red Robin said strictly.

"Batman never took out the Joker, I am not allowing Nightwing's killer to stay alive." Red Hood turned his back and went to his motorcycle.

"Just keep your comm on!" Red Robin called after him knowing there was no stopping Jason. Then he turned to his other teammate "Robin…"

"Don't worry about me Drake, I can handle this. Nightwing was lying there when we found him," pointing to the dumpster that he was staring at, "there was trail of blood coming from the north." He aimed his grappling gun and disappeared into the night sky.

Red Robin knelt down next to dumpster. Dick was killed on Tuesday today was Friday and the trash was over flowing, leading Tim to believe that the trash was emptied on Mondays. If who ever killed Nightwing attempted to ditch any evidence it would be near the bottom of the dumpster. Tim took samples of the blood that stained the dumpster, he had a good guess that it belonged to Dick, but he wanted to be thorough he slowly walked down the alley and then turned north. At this point in the fight Nightwing was on the ground. Tim gazed north and though about various situations that Dick could have gotten himself into, but he was pulled from his thoughts when a voice spoke to him via the comm link.

"I've got something," Jason's voice came, there was no jab or snarky tone in his voice, meaning this was serious, "it's Nightwing's weapon…well one of them."

"I'm coming to your location," Red Robin replied, "Robin you have anything?"

"Negative, I will meet you there as well."

When Tim arrived Jason was kneeling on one knee, his left hand arm propped on the knee of the same side, his signature red helmet sat on his right side. Red Hood held the broken escrima in his right hand.

Red Robin knelt down next to Red Hood and took the weapon in his hand, "five blocks," Tim mused. "He made his way five blocks…at this point in the fight his mask was missing and he was down a weapon."

"Red Robin, Hood, you two might want to come up here," Robin called.

Red Hood and Red Robin both turned around to see Damian standing on the roof. Tim gently placed the broken weapon in his utility belt and then followed Jason to meet with Robin.

The roof was heavily damaged and despite the rain there was still some blood stains.

"This way," Damian moved quickly. He went a short distance before stopping short, "There." he pointed to the all too remnants of the familiar domino mask Nightwing wore. It was broken in several pieces and scattered in the area, the left lens was cracked and the right lens was missing all together.

Damian knelt down and started to piece together the mask. Tim placed a hand on Robin's shoulder. The younger boy looked briefly up, to see the older teen holding a bag to put the mask in.

"Thanks…"

Red Robin knelt down not too far from Robin to start taking blood samples, while Red Hood went off to to canvas the rest of the rooftop.

"I can't find his other escrima stick," Red Hood said coming over to the two younger boys, "I recorded everything, when you are done taking samples here I have another place for you to check."

Tim stood up and marked the vial he placed the sample in, "I've finished here, show we me where."

Jason lead the way to air conditioning unit, when Tim saw it the most notable thing was a large dent.

"I know I'm not the detective you are, but I'd say that's a Dick sized dent."

Tim didn't comment at first, he only look a scans of the dented metal, "Jason, would you be willing don the black and blue for a night?"

"Drake what are you talking about?" Robin asked.

"Me being Nightwing, It's not like I haven't done it before," Jason shrugged.

"What are you speaking about?" the teen demanded.

"Whoa, slow down there Demon," Red Hood patted Robin's head, this gesture only annoyed him even more. "Back when Dick was covering for Bats, I spend some nights here in Bludhaven as Nightwing."

"I will not allow it!" Damian curled his hands into fists, looking as if he would take Jason down.

"It's not your choice, we can't have Nightwing disappearing at the same time as Dick Grayson. Bruce would agree with this." Red Robin said calmly, before Jason could interject and make matters worse. "Why won't you allow it anyway? This is a chance to draw out the killer, he can't think he had succeeded."

"Because I am the next Nightwing you idiots."

Red Hood and Red Robin exchanged glances, this was new information to them. Dick never spoke of anyone taking the mantle after him, mostly because there was no one, they never thought about Damian taking the mantle.

"What? Said who?" Jason asked in a less than tactful tone.

"Never mind, do as you please," Robin snapped turning around.

Tim narrowed his eyes at Red Hood before racing after Damian. "Robin, come back here, what are you talking about?" He reached the younger teen and placed a hand on his shoulder. The reaction of the trained assassin was to turn around and cock a fist. "Whoa, it's just me, Da-Robin, tell me what are you talking about?"

"It's none of your damn business and the mantle of Nightwing is not your title to give away."

"Listen punk," Jason snapped, "I don't give a damn about what you think if it will help us—"

"Grayson…" Damian said abruptly, his voice trembled slightly, "he told me…" He could not maintain eye contact with either of his older brothers, he felt himself falling apart again, he couldn't show them that he was weak.

"What are you talking about? When did he say this?" Tim kept his voice calm, he knew better than to anger Damian when he was willing (even if it was slightly) giving up information.

"That night…father gave me a letter Grayson wrote. In the letter he told me, that he wanted me to be the next Nightwing." Damian spoke to his signature green combat boots with red laces rather than his brothers.

Red Hood was about to talk, but Tim thought it best he didn't so he gestured for him to remain quiet. He placed his hand back on Robin's shoulder, this time the boy allowed it to remain. "is that why you don't want Jason to take over?"

"Yes," the boy replied simply, finally looking up meeting Tim's gentle smile, but he had to turn away. Red Robin's black cowl and smile reminded Damian of when Dick was under the Batman cowl and always smiling.

"Listen kid," Red Hood said frustrated, his tone of voice caused Robin to force Tim's hand from his shoulder and start walking away. "I said listen!" he followed Damian and took the younger boy by the shoulder and turned him around, "I don't want to be Nightwing. I _need_ to be to draw out his killer."

"Whatever, do as you please," Damian huffed and broke free Red Hood's grip, "I'm going home. I have Nightwing's mask." He continued his way and jumped from the roof.

Tim looked at Damian go, the young boy kept so much it, he was taught to conceal his emotions from a young age, but from experience Tim learned it was never good. When he finally revealed to the Teen Titans that his father died, he felt like a weight was lifted from his shoulders. It was clear Damian wanted to express his feelings but he didn't know how.

* * *

When Damian got back to the manor he went up to his rooms with Nightwing's mask. He gently placed the mask on his wooden desk, turning on the desk lamp, but not the main light to the room. He took his uniform off, replacing them with a pair pajamas the shirt was a Gotham Knights baseball shirt that belonged to Dick when he was about Damian's age and a pair of gray sweatpants. He forwent slippers or socks, he hated wearing shoes when he didn't have to.

Once he was changed he sat down in the wheeled desk chair, he leaned to his right and pulled open he bottom down and started to dig around until he could find glue, it was glue that was used for assembling small models, and it would work for putting the mask back together. It did not take long for the teen to piece the mask back together. Once that task was complete he pulled open the top draw to the desk, in here was the letter from Dick, a copy of the picture he placed with Dick in his casket.

He heard footsteps so he turned the light off and dove into his bed. There was light knock on the door, but he didn't reply. Damian kept one eye on the door as it was opened, it was Tim of all people.

"I know your not sleeping," he said in a soft voice, he leaned against the door frame crossing his arms against his chest.

"*Tt*," Damian scoffed, "great detective work, Drake. Now go away." He refused to looked at Tim.

"I know the fact that Dick bequeathing the mantle of Nightwing to you means a great to you, as it should. If you don't want Jason to be Nightwing, we understand. We didn't know that Dick gave you the title, I'm sorry if we offended you. I'll let you get back to sleep," he pushed himself off the door frame. "If you ever want to talk, I'm here."

Damian didn't reply, he only watched as Tim shut the door behind him, and listened to him walk down the hall. Damian got out of bed and made his way back to his desk, he held the mask in front of his face. His as Robin was green and just covered around his eyes. Nightwing's was black and was stylized on the end, with the ends going down the jaw and up the temple.

He was heir to Batman, and destined to be the next Ra's Al Ghul, and now he was asked to be Nightwing. The biggest difference about being the next Nightwing was it was not his birth right. Grayson made the continuous choice to pick him.

* * *

Bruce sat in front of the computer in the Batcave going over the video feed and scans the boys retrieved. They didn't inform him that they went out looking for Dick's murder until after Tim uploaded everything to the computer the next day. Even with the top notch scans they took and the very detailed notes left by Red Robin, Bruce still wanted to see everything for himself.

"Master Bruce, you should really eat sir. I know this week has been draining, but you mustn't neglect your body's basic needs." Alfred spoke in his typical calming voice. He placed a tray down and removed the cloche to reveal a bowl of bowl of Bruce's favorite dish, French onion soup, in hopes of temping the grieving man to eat.

The corners of Bruce's mouth twitched up. "Thank you Alfred." The billionaire sighed, "this was the first thing you made me to eat after my parents died..."

"I do seem to recall this," Alfred gave a smile to the bittersweet memory.

"And it's the first meal you gave Dick when he first arrived here at the manor."

"I also recall this." The butler nodded, remembering Dick at eight sitting alone at the vast table. He placed the bowl in front of the boy, patted him on the shoulder and informed him on why he made this particular dish.

"Although this was not the first dish you made for Jason or Tim when they first came to live with us." Bruce used the spoon to break the layer of gruyere cheese and French bread that topped the savory brown liquid.

"Once again you are right. Master Jason at the time didn't have as refined of a palette as the rest of the manor, I made him a simple sandwich with homemade chips. Master Timothy detests onions, for him I made shepherds pie. I had gotten to know both boys before they had move in. I took a chance that Master Richard would enjoy your favorite dish, he did, and it is—was," Alfred's voice hitched as he changed the word to the past tense. He exhaled heavily before changing to the youngest boy's favorite dish.

Master Damian I made him a chicken curry, but now that he had become vegetarian I made him a meat free version today."

"You've been busy," Bruce commented.

"I have. You know what they say about idol hands," Alfred mused.

"I know that very well. Thank you again, old friend."

"Any time sir." the old butler bowed his head and turned to head upstairs to bring Damian his dinner.

While Bruce was grateful that Alfred made him his favorite dish, he found he could not finish eating it, this is the same thing that happened after his parents died. Bruce stood up and went over to the glass case that held Dick's Nightwing costume, he placed his hand on the glass, and closed his eyes.

 _"You're fired."_

 _"What? Bruce what are you talking about?"_

 _"You disobeyed me, I am relinquishing you from the position of Robin."_

 _"Robin is mine!"_

 _"Robin is only around because I allowed it!"_

 _The look in his eyes, he hadn't seen that look since the say he first meet Dick. The cerulean blue eyes, quickly hardened. "Fine. I understand!" he took Dick mask off and threw it at his feet._

"When I fired you from being Robin, we became estranged for nearly three months after that. Our relationship was never the same, yet when the time came you took over for me. I never told you how proud I was of you when I first saw you wearing the Batman costume. I was always proud of you, you never failed me, it was I who have failed you. I'm sorry Dick." Bruce looked at the mask in the glass case and gave it a nod before going to get changed. It was time to go back to Bludhaven.

* * *

Tim was sitting at the computer in the Batcave, his right elbow was resting on the table, with his head resting in his hand. He was looking over everything again. He knew Bruce was out there now looking over the same rooftop he was looking at. Tim sighed, nothing was coming back on the DNA samples, so Tim started to examine it more, he wanted to know if the DNA was altered. He went as far as to looking at the post-mortem pictures that were taken.

"How can you stand to look at those?" Jason's voice came appearing in the Cave.

"I don't look at his face," Tim said simply not turning away from the photos.

"This is unbelievable, he can't be dead. Not Dickiebird" Jason took a bite of an apple be brought down with him.

"He is Jaybird, and there is nothing we can do about it…" Tim said bitterly.

"No Drake, there is nothing Father can do about it, but there is something _we_ can. Father has kept saying Richard didn't want to be brought back to life. I do not recall him make any request, do either of you?" Damian was dressed in full Robin gear with his arms folded on his chest.

"Nope," Jason said casually popping the p before going back to eating the apple in his hand.

"You're not suggesting that we…" Tim finally looked away from the computer screen and turned around.

"Wait!" Jason said sharply thinking about Robin said.

"Use my grandfather's Lazarus Pit." Damian smiled, it looked sadistic and creepy as the young teen never smiled.

"I don't know about that," Red Hood said his face becoming serious. "It's a rough road coming back from that, even someone like the Golden Boy."

"I know what you speak of, I have seen my grandfather use it. I have faith that Grayson can handle it better than you Todd."

"I know that _Demon._ What I was trying to get at it won't be easy, especially if Bruce isn't on board. It took me several months to not be a mindless raging psychopath."

"How is that different from how you are now?" Tim said without missing a beat, he gave a coy smile.

"Shut up Tim!" Jason snapped, "I'm being serious."

"*Tt* I didn't come here to ask for your permission to do this, I am simply stating a fact, I _am_ bring Grayson back. He can remain in the cell that typically holds my Grandfather. I cannot fathom why you the both are against me on this one."

"It's not that were against you, it's just he told B he didn't want this. We need to honor his wishes." Tim said trying to reason with Damian.

"Damn his wishes! This is Richard, our _brother_. We **_are_** bringing him back to life now grab a damn shovel and follow me!"

Tim and Jason exchanged glances. Both wanted their brother back as much as Damian, but was this really the right choice? Dick would not comeback the same easy going carefree person they were used to, not at first. Dick saw what happened with Jason first hand, granted Jason had already come down from his resurrection at that point, but he still harbored more anger than before.

Jason exhaled heavily, "I didn't have anyone who cared about me when I was resurrected. Maybe that will be the difference for Dick."

"We know if we don't go along with him he will do it anyway," Tim said.

"Bruce can't know. Timmy, even for Dickface it will take him a long time to come down, he will be strong. The little brat can't do this alone."

"Are you suggesting we go through with this?"

"Yeah, I am. Let's go bring our brother home." Jason hit Tim on the shoulder as he walked past him to go change into his Red Hood costume.

Tim stood there a moment conflicted, he wanted his brother back, but he also wanted to follow the young man's wishes and not bring him back because they were selfish. "Someone had to drive the Batplane," Tim joined Jason in the locker area.

"Oh what makes you think you're driving?" the older of the two smiled, happy to see Tim joining them.

* * *

The last time Batman stood in the dark alley in the slums of Bludhaven, he was holding the dead body of his son in his arms.

That night would forever be engraved in his mind. Nightwing lying in a puddle of blood and dirty water. He knelt down in the spot where Dick has taken his last breath and ran his hand over the dent in the dumpster. He knew that the damage hand't contributed to the hero's death; it was simply the place Nightwing dragged himself before death found him. He also knew that the blood samples Tim had gathered the previous evening had belonged to Dick alone.

Batman was scanning the surrounding area yet again when he noticed a familiar shape tucked in behind the heavy trash container. Moving the dumpster, Batman knelt down, and picked up an escrima stick, his son's preferred weapon. On it, there were three bloody letters scratched into it, likely with a piece of broken glass that littered the area; B.Y.E.

Tucking the escrima stick into his belt, the Dark Knight journeyed the five blocks the weapon's owner had traversed, injured and bloody, to the rooftop where Nightwing fought his last battle. So many times Batman had investigated murders in Gotham City, but none of them struck him as hard as this one, not since the murder of his parents in another darkened alley so long ago. When Joker killed Jason, Batman knew all there was to about the crime, every fact etched in his mind, but he has still managed to fail the boy, even if he had only just managed to retain his vow and his sanity. After Jason's resurrection, his son's first words to him had cut him to the quick. "I forgive you for not saving me, but why the hell is he still alive?" Jason asked bitterly. Little did the young man know this was a question that Bruce asked himself every time he had faced the cursed clown since the day he pulled Robin's broken from the rubble.

Batman stood in the center of that rooftop and asked himself another question. After losing so much, how the hell would he be able to keep that damned vow when he finally confronted Nightwing's murderer? And he would…Nothing would stand in his way. Dick's killer would be fed his justice through a straw, and it would taste a lot like leather-covered knuckles and flavored with his own blood.

As Batman looked down at the alley directly below, he reviewed in his mind's eye the picture of Nightwing's second escrima stick as it appeared in Tim's cowl camera. At this juncture, Dick had lost his mask and one of his weapons had been broken. But that still left Nightwing with one. Testing a theory, Batman pulls the newly-found escrima stick from his belt and pressed the button that triggered the electric stun feature. Nothing happened. Something has shorted out the circuitry at some point. He scanned the rooftop, searching for clues Red Robin might have missed that night. Tim discovered DNA during that first search that didn't match Dick's. It had to belong to the killer but, so far, the computer had drawn a blank on the identity of its owner.

There had to be more clues, Batman started to slowly walk around the roof top. Dick's killer had to had to have left something behind that could solve the murder of his son.

This attack appeared to be rage induced, that became evident after analyzing the footprint Red Robin found. The size and depth of the food print revealed to the great Detective that Nightwing's killer was heavy, and therefore strong. His strength was based off Dick's injuries and the damage caused.

* * *

When Jason and Tim arrived at their brother's grave Damian was already at work digging it up.

"*Tt* You finally decided to join me I see," Robin said pausing for a moment going back to digging.

"Have you thought about scrubbing the footage of us you know digging up Dick's grave? Even being in the Cave tonight. If we don't want to tell Bruce what's going on we can't leave behind any clues as to what we are doing."

"That's why we have you. Now start digging." Damian snapped. "Todd you're here because we need your strength, if we are do this alone it will be difficult. When my Grandfather is resurrected it take six men or more to restrain him. I predict that even when his mind his not his own Grayson's acrobatic skill still make come through."

"Once we get on the plane I will work on removing any evidence of what we have done tonight." Tim said.

Not one of the three brothers spoke while the removed the soil from the grave of their eldest brother. It was a surreal moment, they were really doing this, they were going to bring their brother back.

Jason was the first one to reach the glossy black coffin with the royal blue stripe. He rubbed dirt off with a shaky hand, revealing the words etched into it:

Richard "Dick" John Grayson-Wayne

March 20th 1991 - May 16th 2017

Beloved son, brother, and friend

Forever Flying High

The three brother continued to clean the dirt off the coffin of their older brother. Tim opened the coffin revealing Dick's cold, waxy, pale dead body. He didn't look life himself, he looked like a fake doll that was supposed to him. He was laying in royal blue satin in a perfectly tailored suit with a black shirt and tie that matched his signature color, his arms were crossed on his chest.

Damian looked down at the body of the young man who was his first Batman and gasped for air and started to cough and gag, he covered his mouth. His green eyes were wide, he found he could no longer look at Dick anymore, he turned his back and climbed from the grave and knelt down in attempts not to vomit. He had seen dead bodies before, he had seen Grayson's dead body, he heard his head in his lap as his father drove Nightwing home. Then why was he reacting like this.

Jason looked to Tim and jerked his head to Damian while he took the white sheet he had and opened it up to wrap the body in. Red Robin nodded and climbed out to see Robin trying to compose himself while sitting on his knees.

"Damian?" Tim spoked softly, making sure to announce himself reaching out to the thirteen-year-old to place a hand on his shoulder.

"What's happening to me? I have smelt rotting bodies, seen my grandfather in a state like this…"

Tim wasn't sure if he was talking to him, or questing himself because he believed this action of grief was a moment of weakness.

"It's going to be okay—"

"I know that, fool." Damian huffed scrubbing his eyes with the back of his green-leather covered hand.

Tim sighed inwardly, the trained assassin was hard to get through to, it was amazing that Dick even managed this feat. "Stay here with Jason. I am going to get the plane."

Jason carefully wrapped Nightwing's body in the white sheet. He scoffed a little, he was being so careful with his brother's dead body, showing respect, something he doubted Joker showed his body when he was dug from this gave. His feelings were mixed about bringing Dick to the Lazarus Pit. In his personal experience it took several months for him to come down from the affects of being resurrected, the same could be true for Dick. Although his brother will have something he didn't have, support.

When Jason brought Dick's body out of the hole he saw Damian sitting on the ground his left leg was bent inwards laying on the ground while his right leg was propped up with his right arm resting on it. "We need to fill his grave."

"Oh and here I thought we would leave it open so Bruce knows what we are doing."

"*Tt*" Damian rolled his eyes and jumped to his, as he passed Jason and Dick he placed a hand on Dick's head. "Jerk," he spat at Jason.

Red Hood carefully laid his eldest brother down so that the process of filling the grave could start.

* * *

Batman meticulously combed the rooftop for clue he was currently sifting through some sand and stones of various shades of black, ecru, and gray. Something looked off, this stone looked of purer white and it was stained with red. A tooth, canine, it would be noticeable if it was missing. Dick's killer must have gone to a dentist to provide him with an implant. Large man with missing canine. After finding no more clues, Bruce settled for having the tooth, he made his way back to the Cave to continue his investigation.

* * *

 **A/N: Okay...so what did you guys all think? Glad I'm back with this? Just incase you didn't pick up on it here are the changes: Bruce only told the heroes about Dick's death and Dick is buried in the cemetery on the grounds of Wayne manor.**

 **I am go grateful for the feed back I got from the last chapter. I gave me the encouragement to continue on with this fic. So from the bottom of my heart thanks for everyone who had reviewed, faved, and followed this fic so far. I look forward to hearing from everyone on this chapter as well.**

 **So my question you is: do you think Bruce will catch them?**


	3. Into the Pit

Tim had to retrieve the keys to the Batplane from Alfred. The old butler could be just as suspicious as the man he served, but the young man knew one sure-fire way he could get them without being questioned, and that would be to tell Alfred he need to get out of Gotham to grieve his brother.

The plane was on auto-pilot, but Tim was not far from the controls. He worked furiously on his laptop to remove any video footage of three of them bringing Dick's body on board before take-off. He had to be meticulous to be sure he found and replaced all the footage from the cameras and sensor data that would record their actions. They couldn't have Bruce coming after them before they had a decent lead. The ride started out quiet and somber. Both Jason and Damian seemed a bit shell-shocked by the evening's events.

Jason was about to face the Lazarus Pit for the first time since he had crawled out of it all of those years ago. Damian's mood, Tim suspected, was for a different reason. Tim wouldn't put it past the boy's mother or grandfather to use their plan to revive Dick as a means to manipulate Damian into returning to them, and he had no doubt that Damian was cognizant of that likely outcome. No matter what happened, however, neither Tim nor Jason would willingly trade one brother for another . . . even if that other brother was an obnoxious, superior, pain-in-the ass.

"All the footage has been altered." Tim announced, breaking the silence. He put the laptop into sleep mode and set it aside.

"Did you remember the camera near the armory? The Batplane can be seen in the upper right-hand corner of the video," Damian asked him.

Tim sighed. "I got it."

"What about . . ." Damian started to add.

"Damian, I got it . . . ALL of it," Tim cut him off a little testily.

More silence followed, but Tim was glad for it. He had his own thoughts and emotions to deal with and had no desire for conversation. He turned back to the controls but left the plane on auto-pilot. It would discourage the others while allowing him to lose himself in thought over the next several hours.

* * *

"Welcome back Master Bruce," Alfred greeted his employer as he exited the Batmobile.

The butler got a grunt and a nod as Bruce placed the tooth in a clear, round specimen tray and closed it. This little piece of enamel, dentin, pulp and cementum was the newest lead as to who killed his eldest son. He sat down at the computer, pulled his cowl off and started to bring up dentists in the Bludhaven area.

"Has Tim left? He does better at hacking into computers." Bruce said, more talking to himself rather than Alfred about the last part.

"Master Timothy asked to borrow the Batplane hours ago. He wanted time out of Gotham to grieve, something you should allow yourself to do."

"I am fine Alfred," Bruce sighed. As habit, he started to look over the footage of the manor grounds he brought up the alternate view of the hanger, where he saw Tim in full gear along with supplies. He knew Dick's death had been tough on everyone, Bruce also knew Tim was attempting to be their for his two remaining brothers, especially Damian in the way Dick had always been there for everyone. Speaking of the youngest member of the family Bruce saw Damian come into view as well. Perhaps Tim convinced him to go. No. This was a roos. Jason entered carrying something wrapped in a sheet. The fabric slipped showing what looked like black hair before Jason covered it back up.

Bruce closed his eyes. They were taking Dick to the Lazarus Pit. Something he vowed to the young man he would not do, but his brothers made no such promise.

"Bring him home boys," he leaned back in his chair and watched as the boys boarded the plane with their deceased brother.

* * *

A couple of hours later, Tim turned around to face the back of the cabin. Damian was curled up, sleeping in a chair. It was a long ride, and the younger boy looked to be using it wisely, catching some much needed shut eye before they had to face the security lacing the Al Ghul compound. If he had any say in it, he would prefer if they could get in and get out without alerting anyone. Carrying a dead body, however, created risks that made this juncture of the trek . . . difficult. The odds that they could manage it were stacked against them.

"He almost looks normal when he's sleeping," Jason commented. He was looking over at the sleeping Robin. "I like him better like this."

Tim snorted. "Jay, as much as I would love to oblige you, I only have a limited supply of drugs with me. We don't know how much will be required once Dick comes out of the pit."

"You two are both deplorable humans, and should be ashamed of yourselves," Damian snapped, sitting up to glare at them.

"The little shit's awake," Jason announced unnecessarily.

"Tt. I know better than to sleep around the likes of the two of you. I was merely resting my eyes and meditating." The boy muttered before turning away from them in search of a more comfortable position.

"I know Todd has been resurrected before, but his memory won't be the best on the situation. He won't have his own mind, he will be strong. He won't be our Grayson. Drake you have the sedative?"

Jason snorted, "yeah plenty." he replied for his brother.

Damian shot Jason a sharp look, "how you thought about where we will keep Grayson after? There is only so long we can keep him in the cell here. We can't take him home, nor should he be left alone until the initial madness has left him."

"Damian has a point, and Bruce will be suspicious if we all disappear from Gotham." Tim said thinking. "What about Dick's apartment?"

"Tt. You're an idiot Drake, that is a dumb idea. Do you want us found out?"

"I don't see you coming up with an idea." Tim countered.

"Tt," Damian crossed his arms. and tuned away from him.

"That's what I thought," Tim replied, "come up with an idea before berating mine."

"Come up with a better idea and I won't need to." Damian snapped.

"Hey! Hey! Cool it you two! Save the damn arguing until we get Dickface back, I will throw you out the fucking window!" Jason let out a frustrated breath, "Titans Tower." He mumbled.

"Say what?" Red Robin said.

"Titan Tower in New York. Can we keep him there?"

Red Robin rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "we do have holding cells that keep even the strongest Metas at bay, I don't see why we can't. This would mean we'd have to tell everyone what we have done."

"Fools! Do neither one of you understand what a _secret_ is?"

* * *

"Damn it," Damian huffed, "My mother is waiting for us. I thought you used the cloaking system, Drake."

"I did," Tim said annoyed.

"How are you even surprised that she figured out we were coming? She probably put some tracking device in your brain before you were spawned," Jason said.

"Quiet plebeian." Damian hissed.

"Everyone take your seat, I am about ready to land. Is, um, Dick secured?"

"Unless he came to life on his own, then he's still is." Damian said.

The decent down continued on without a hitch. Once they landed Jason went over to Dick's body and lifted his brother into his arms, and then followed his two younger brothers out, to meet Talia.

"Damian, my son, what brings you here?" Talia asked.

Damian walked towards her, "Nothing, mother."

"I beg to differ," Ra's said walking up, appearing out of the shadows.

Damian dropped to one knee and bowed his head "Grandfather."

Tim and Jason stood back in the shadows. They hoped this would not happen. They knew this was a possibility, and as always Tim had contingency plan, one Damian reluctantly agreed to. Damian would distract Talia and Ra's while Jason and Tim snuck away to the Lazarus Pit. They had all been here before, but even knowing the way Tim still studied the layout on their way over.

"Tell me Damian what brings you home?" Ra's asked trying to find the answer in the teen's eyes before he spoke.

"My home is in Gotham now," Damian stated evenly rising to his feet.

"He wishes to use the Lazarus Pit," Ra's said his lips twisted in a sadistic smile.

"Yes..." Damian's voice faltered.

"Step forward," Ra's said to Jason and Tim.

The two stepped forward. "Good to see you again, Jason," Ra's smirked. "Ah the young Detective, good to see you again."

The Demon's Head walked to the pair, and removed the sheet from Dick's head. "So the acrobat has fallen, and here you are wishing to bring him back to life. For that my grandson, you need to use my precious Lazarus Pit." The ancient head of the Al Ghul family looked at Jason. "You realize that this can only happen for a price." He patted Red Hood on the cheek. The young man's face turned into a snarl.

"If anyone deserves a second chance at life, it's Nightwing," Jason said he looked down at the body of his brother. He pulled the sheet back over Dick's face.

Ra's ignored Jason, returning his attention to Damian. "You come back, using your status as the heir to the Demon's Head however you please, but I will no longer allow you the freedom. If you wish to use the Pit, you will remain here and take your place at my side as is your destiny. No more playing with the Bat…" Ra's looked down his nose at the other three. "Nor his whelps."

"Damian, don't…" Tim told him. "Dick wouldn't want that."

"Such arrogance, detective," Ra's challenged, "to presume to know the mind of a dead man."

"That is the price of the Lazarus Pit," Talia murmured, meeting the eyes of her son. "Obey, and Nightwing shall live again. Refuse…and you may leave the way you came in. And Damian…should you choose to leave, you will no longer be welcomed back as an Al Ghul."

Damian sucked in his breath sharply.

"You've come so far already, Damian. We won't lose one brother to gain back another," Tim argued.

"Come to me, grandson. It is time to reclaim your birthright ," Ra's said beckoning to him. "You were born to rule."

Damian looked to his grandfather then to the body of Nightwing in Red Hood's arms.

Jason could tell that that his younger brother was considering this trade. He rolled his eyes behind his mask. "Oh my God! Do you guys rehearse this stuff in front of a mirror or what? This is becoming a fucking soap opera!"

"You will be silent, cur," Ra's snarled, "Else I cut your tongue from your flapping mouth!"

"I'm sorry it has to be this way, Mother, Grandfather, but so be it. Grayson accepted me into his family as a brother without having to pay a toll. He never asked me to pa any price in order to fight by his side nor gain his respect…his love was free and unconditional, and his loyalty was priceless. I wouldn't betray his trust now," Damian said sadly, turning his back on them. "More than anyone I've ever known, this man deserves to live." A tear slid free from his mask, and Damian scrubbed at it angrily before anyone could see. His mother and grandfather would look upon his sentiment as a form of weakness.

"Are you shitting me?" Jason snapped. "Damian, you son and your grandson, comes to you, hat in hand, to ask a favor and this is your answer? A fucking ultimatum? I suddenly understand why he would prefer our fucked-up family to this one. I don't know why you chose to throw my sorry ass into the Pit and when I know no one was asking it of you, but to deny your own blood….?" Jason bent down and scooped Dick's body back into his arms, grunting the burden of carrying his dead weight. "Come on, Robin. We can still track down Nightwing's killer. I personally will enjoy giving that bastard the fucking beat down of his life."

"Jason…"

"Shut up Tim."

Talia watched as her beloved's son began to walk away. Batman's chosen sons and his blood-son united in their quest to save to save one of their own…"Wait," she called after them. "My son…would doing this thing please your father?"

Tim looked back over his shoulder, answering for Damian. "It would make you _son_ happy," he said quietly. It was more of a reprimand than he shouted the words. "You don't deserve him… _Either_ of them."

"You may use it," Ra's murmured, waving a hand regally as he turned away.

The three boys stopped and exchanged looks. Although a smile lifted the edges of Damian's mouth, Tim dropped a hand over his shoulder.

"No catches?" Tim asked narrowing his eyes looking overing his shoulder.

"No catches," Talia nodded once. "You have my word."

Damian took a breath and asked, "Hal 'ant wathiq ( _are you sure_ )?"

"Yes, my son. I am sure. Go now. Take him to the Lazarus Pit," Talia murmured softly before she, too, turned and followed Ra's from the room.

"Let's move before they change their minds," Damian said leading his brothers to the Lazarus Pit.

They reached a stone wall, with a large black metal double door in it. It was rounded at the top, over fifteen foot tall, and each door was five feet wide and covered in round metal studs. The handles were two very large rings held in the mouth of the Al Ghul symbol. Damian walked up to the door and gripped one ring with both hands and pulled open the heavy metal door. The door slowly creaked open, inside the room was the large bubbling green Lazarus Pit was in the center of the room. There were blood stains on the light stone floor and walls, large dents in the hard stone both on the floor and the walls.

Jason shifted his brother in his arms, he was starting to get heavy, but he would never admit it to Tim or Damian. He may not have had memories form the day he was brought back to life using this same Pit, but he still got chill thinking about it. He would get flashes of memories, but he wasn't sure if they were false memories. Regardless, they still freaked him out. He placed his brother down next to the Pit, and waited for his brothers to complete their tasks to prepare for their brother's resurrection.

When everyone was inside the room Damian pulled the door shut and then started to slide the latches to close the door. Once he locked the main door Damian started to walk over to the containment chamber. He had so many memories in this room. He watched his grandfather come back to life many times. Now, he was going to watch brother crawl from it's depths. He walked inside the cell and looked around, it was even worse than the main room, but it was strong. Damian checked the door carefully, and then inspected the locks. This task was something he did with his mother before his grandfather was renewed.

Tim dropped the bag that he was carrying to the floor. He opened it up, and from it pulled out strong thick ropes, that they would use to restrain Dick. It was going to be a difficult task with only three of them, that is why he also brought along heavy sedatives. Red Robin brought rope over to older brother, and set it down by his side, so that he would be prepared as well.

Jason had removed Dick from the white sheet that covered him and was now holding his brother in his arms once again. He took one last look down at the Lazarus Pit. Perhaps Dick would not have the same trauma after taking a dip in the Pit, after all he was the Golden Boy. He may have lost his parents young, but he didn't allow that to define him, he did have a tragic childhood, just a sad back story, that helped shape him.

"Be ready to restrain him, we don't know how he will react," Red Hood said. He looked over at the rope Tim brought him.

"Tt, I know that. I _told_ you that. I've watched my Grandfather renew himself with this Pit since I was born." Damian said impatiently from behind Jason.

"What Damian is trying to say, is we are ready," Red Robin said putting a hand on Robin's shoulder.

"Don't speak for me Drake." He huffed and he shrugged the hand off his shoulder.

Jason knelt down at the edge of the Pit and lowered his brother's body into the Pit. "Come out with the same hair style as me I'm killing you. It was mine first." Jason mumbled. He stood up and stepped back. He didn't remember much from when he was resurrected, with the exception of the flashes of 'memories' he had, he was curious to see if they were true or not.

Damian's eyes were fixed on Dick's body as the waters started to bubble, while his hands nervously fidgeted with the rope in his gloved hands, he also found he was holding his breath in anticipation, he was getting his brother back.

"NOW!," Jason shouted taking the rope in his hands and quickly getting to his feet and stepped back and stood with his brothers.

Dick crawled from the mysterious bubbling liquid and took a sharp deep breath. His hair was plastered to his head, his suit clung tightly to him. He then jumped from the Pit, his lips twisted into snarl.

Robin and Red Hood flanked Red Robin on either side, because Tim was the one who was going to administer the sedative he was not armed with a rope. This made Jason slightly nervous, sure he knew Tim had the chops to fight, but not against Dick like this. Nightwing was already agile, quick moving, and strong without the aid of the Lazarus Pit.

In a blink of the eye Dick leapt forward, Damian and Jason charged him, while Tim took a step back giving his brothers a chance to restrain him, but Nightwing easily broke past the two and wrapped his hands around Tim's neck. Tim gasped as Dick began to press down hard on his brother's neck as he attempted to squeeze the life from him. The syringe he was holding fell from his hand.

Tim gasped for air, he struggled against Dick, but strength given to him by the Lazarus Pit was too much for just Tim alone, he had to try and relax, tensing up was not going to help him.

Jason and Damian quickly jumped into action to help pull Dick from Tim before they would be forced to use the Lazarus Pit on another brother. Jason jumped on Dick's back, while Damian tried to pry his hands off Tim's neck. Tim was kicking his feet in attempt to knee his attacker in the groin, while trying to pry Nightwing fingers off neck, on top of that he struggling to keep himself conscious. The edges of his vision started to fade to black.

"Damn it Dick! Damian, get the fucking syringe!" Jason snapped his muscles flexed as he tried to use the sleeper hold on his brother by taking his arm and wrapping it around Dick's neck.

Damian picked the syringe up that was knocked several feet away. He got it ready in his hand and ran over to his three older brothers. Jason was finally able to get Dick off Tim, after the latter was able to knee his older brother in the groin. Red Hood, took Nightwing, flipped him over and body slammed him to the ground, and sat on him. Damian took the sedative and jabbed into Nightwing's arm. It wasn't instantaneous, so they would have to wait a couple of minutes.

"Timmy you okay buddy?" Jason called out while he and Damian worked to restrain Dick. They almost tied Nightwing's hands, but broke a hand free and in the process punched Red Hood in the eye, "Fuck," he snapped.

"Peachy, you?" Tim replied while rubbing his neck.

"Just get you ass over here and help!"

Red Robin got to his feet to join his brothers, in the short time it look him to join them, the sedative was starting to take effect and Dick started to become slower, so they took the opportunity to shove their brother into the containment chamber. The door to the cell was just as this as the door they entered through. It's design was completely different, this door was mostly solid metal, but there was window with thick bars. There was two thick slide locks with large padlocks that were the size of Damian's hands.

Jason crossed the room and sat down against the door so that he was facing the Lazarus Pit. "No one else better die. I'm not throwing anyone else's ass in that damn Pit!" He let out a heavy breath. "Timmy quit rubbing at your neck."

Tim sat down next to his brother. "I wasn't prepared for this." He looked over at the cell, Damian was looking in at Dick through the bars.

"I don't think any of us were. Well maybe the Shrimp," Jason got to his feet to grab his brother's bag of supplies he knew Red Robin had a first aid kit in there and right now he was the one who needed it.

"His eyes…They were so wild, I've never seen that look in his eyes." Tim's voice sounded distant as he took his cape and cowl off.

Red Hood looked at his brother's neck, "Dickiebird did a number on you…" he rummaged around the bag until he found what he was looking for, lidocaine. Once he got the tube, he squeezed some into his hand and rubbed over strangulation marks left by their eldest brother. Jason started to wrap the bandages around Tim's neck.

"Not too tight I don't need another brother to strangle me today." Tim said dryly.

* * *

 **A/N: Did you think they'd do it? Surprised by Bruce's reaction? Happy to have our favorite Dickiebird back?**

 **I have been loving the feed back I have been getting, so keep it coming! I appreciate it. Thanks to everyone who has already faved and reviewed and followed this fic!**

 **So who is ready to see what happens next? What do you think Bruce will do when he sees the boys?**


	4. Homecoming

"Master Bruce, I have lunch," Alfred called as he approached the master of Wayne manor.

"Thank you Alfred. You can leave it there," Bruce gestured to the spot that already held a tray with a cloche.

Alfred cleared the spot. "Have you even eaten?" He asked lifting the dome to see only a few bits of fruit missing and the cup of coffee missing. "It's still hot, I suggest eating now."

"Safe house five," Bruce said leaning back in his chair and interlocked his fingers. He was in his Batman costume sands the cape and cowl.

"I beg your pardon sir?"

"The boy's are going to need a place to keep Dick safe. I know they don't want to tell me, not yet. But I still want-need to help them. I am going to tell the boys that I'm closing it…hopefully they will use it for Dick. Tim is smart he should see the potential. I may risk showing my hand by offering them this gift," Bruce sighed. "But, it will be the safest place for him. It's just on the outskirts of Gotham. Far enough from the city, but close enough for…the boys to keep an eye on him."

"And you sir."

"And me…" Bruce agreed. "I'm going to call the boys."

* * *

Time was getting tight. There was only so long all three of them could be away from Gotham before Bruce were to notice something up was up. They didn't tell their teams where they were, yet both Jason and Tim used them as a front for they time away from Gotham. Damian simply left with no word to anyone.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Tim asked as he spun his chair around to face his two brothers, a cup of coffee in his hand.

"Yeah, doesn't that safe house as a cell?" Jason asked while polishing his Red Hood helmet.

"More like a secure room to house the laser and other weapons Batman uses to blow holes in building and stuff, but if we move the stuff out of there it would work!" Tim smiled thinking.

"It _would_ work. It _would_ be perfect!" Damian looked up from sharpening his katana blade, a brief movement of excitement spread across his face, but he quickly his his emotion.

"You don't think Batman knows…you know about Dick yet?" Jay questioned their luck.

"Tt. If Father knew, he would have been angry and ordered us home. He wouldn't be giving us chores to do." Damian said.

"Yeah, but don't you think this is a little coincidental?" Jay raised an eye brow looking at his two brothers.

"No. Damian's right The safe house would be perfect," Tim nodded before taking a sip of his coffee.

Jason smirked, "Bet you never thought you'd be saying those words, now did ya?"

Damian glared at him.

"Hm," Tim muttered as he stood up and walked away from the pair to the control station.

Jason rolled his shoulder looked over at the sleeping quarters. "You're up for guard duty next, Spawn. I'm going to try and catch a few Z's before we gather up Goldie and head out of here."

Damian rolled his eyes and headed towards Grayson's cell without complaint. Watching over Grayson never bothered him, after all the young man had done for him.

* * *

Damian was sitting on the ground absorbed in thought. They didn't really think everything over, sure they had Dick back, but they didn't think over where they would take him until he was of his own mind once again, that was until his father called informing them he wanted to clear out a safe house. It seemed to perfect, but could be his father was grieving in his own way.

He felt his eyes closing, but they quickly snapped open, strangle enough it was not because he heard noise but because he heard nothing. Dick had been making noise non stop since. He looked at his brother to see him unmoving on the ground. His heart sunk, he had heard of rare instances where the Pit failed, could this have happened to his beloved brother? He just got him back! He could not lose him so soon.

Damian touched the lock. Going inside with the young man this insane would be like walking to cage with a wild lion, but he could really be hurt…or worse dead.

"Grayson?" The teen called out tentatively, he held his breath waiting for answer. "Richard, you fool, wake up this instant!" He look the key from his pocket and inserted it into the lock, keeping his eyes on his brother.

* * *

 _The smell and taste of blood and smoke filled the air Jason was lying on ground of an abandoned wear house. He could feel every blow as the Joker brought his crow bar down on Jason's back, then limbs breaking bones. He could feel the pain, hear the bones snapping, his heart slowing down, his vision failing, he could dimly hear laughing, oh how he hated that laughter. Then came one last whack…and he felt nothing…blackness, he couldn't hear, the malicious laughter anymore, couldn't feel his broken body, couldn't see the old wear house, couldn't smell or taste his blood._

He woke up gasping for air and in a cold sweat, his hand clenching at his heart, "Fuck…not again…" Jason grumbled. He shook his head hoping to make the lingering images disappear.

For a moment he forgot where he was. He hated this nightmare, he hated remembering what killed him. He felt vulnerable, something he didn't want his brothers to see.

"Jay?" Tim's voice was far and distance, yet it broke him from his thoughts.

"I'm fine…sorry I woke you." Jason said quickly before laying back down hoping Tim would drop the conversation.

The younger boy took the cue from his brother, "Alright I am going to relieve Damian," Tim put the book down that he was reading. He then crossed the aircraft and left.

Tim sighed once he was got outside, he was trying hard to keep it together. He knew both Jason and Damian had their inner demons for this situation, and he was going to have to be the rock of the family until Dick got his mind back. Tim never realized how hard of a job Dick had keeping the family together. Knowing what everyone to calm down and focus, that didn't end at just the brothers, it included Bruce as well.

He walked slowly to the area that held the Lazarus Pit, thinking. He kicked at a loose rock and watched it bounce. In between the bounces he could hear Dick thrashing around, but it wasn't his typical thrashing it was like he was attacking something…or someone!

Tim started to run as fast as his feet could carry him, that's when everything came into view. He watched in horror as Dick took Damian and flipped him over his head and body slammed the younger boy on the ground as if he was rag doll and then slam the boy's head to the stone floor.

Tim pulled out his phone and called Jason. "Jaybird! Cell now!" He yelled into the phone before hanging up.

Dick slammed Damian's head against the ground once again as Tim burst into the cell in attempts to save his only younger brother from his eldest brother.

"Dick, that's Damian, you know he's your brother. Your Robin!" Tim was doing his best to pull Dick off of Damian, only to have the former buck back and send Red Robin flying backwards hitting the wall hard.

Tim felt the room spin around his. He dizzily looked at Dick as he continued to pummel Damian. He staggered to his feet, he was slower than he wanted to gain composure. When he did went back to aiding Damian who was fighting to remain conscious.

Dick growled and started to chock Damian, who just working with only his right arm to struggle to free himself, but the younger boy lost his battle with consciousness and that arm too fell limp.

"Damn it Damian! You're stronger than that! Wake up!" Tim shouted.

Jason came in, with a gun drawn and shot Dick in the shoulder, this caused Dick to drop Damian immediately.

"Jay!" Tim snapped as he went to help Damian now that Dick was off of him.

"Oh shut up, it's a rubber bullet," Red Hood shouted running over to jump on Dick, "It worked didn't it?" he said as he pulled out a syringe filled with the only drug powerful enough to knock Dick out in his current condition.

Dick was now knocked out, but he wasn't the only one. Damian was lying on the floor, his face bloodied and bruised. "Damian?" Tim said gently shaking the teen for fear that he would attack him if he was awake, but no response came.

Jason took the bucket of water they had for Dick and threw it on Damian wetting Tim in the process.

"What the hell Jay!" Tim snapped.

"Is he dead?"

"No, you idiot, he's still breathing. No thanks to you." Tim rolled his eyes.

"Eh, too bad." Jason tossed the now empty bucket aside. "The Pit is right there and Dickface here is lonely."

"That's just what I want three crazed lunatics with me on the plane." Tim said evenly as he check's Damian over to asses his injuries.

"But it—hey!" Jason snapped getting what Tim meant.

Tim snickered a little as he picked Damian up into his arms. "He's going to need medical attention. I think we should bring Dick back to Gotham now. He's already got the drop on Damian and me. We will have more resources back home."

"I still can't believe Dickwad got the drop on the kid. He was being all high and mighty on knowing what happens, tells us under no circumstances to go into the cell, and what does he do? Go in! I can't wait to tell him how stupid he was!"

Tim snorted, "If you know what's good for you, I wouldn't be mentioning that when he wakes up."

"Why not? Might do his some good. Don't know if you have noticed or not, but the kid could use a heaping dose of humility."

"I've noticed," Tim said laying Damian on a gurney. "He must have landed wrong. His shoulder is dislocated.

Jason winced "Ouch. Had a few of those. Hurt like a mother…lucky he's out cold."

Tim expertly pushed the arm back into place with a soft 'pop'. "He's going to have a headache from hell when he wakes up," Tim said checking the younger boy's pupils. "Pupils are sluggish…he's got a concussion but nothing too serious."

Jason pursed his lips, "You've got blood in your hair."

Tim glanced back at him, "I've got blood in my mouth, too Dick backhanded me when I when in to help Damian."

Jason walked over to the sink and filled a cup with water and brought over another empty cup. "Here," he handed the cup to Tim who took them from his brother.

Tim took a sip of water and swished it around in his mouth and spit the blood and water mixture into the other cup. "Thanks. Anyway, you should probably get back to the cell and check on big brother dearest."

"He's fine," Jason snorted sitting down in a chair watching Tim. "He'll be sleeping off the effects of that drug for the next couple of hours."

"We agreed to not leave him alone for too long," Tim reminded him. Jason didn't reply, but stood up and moved to leave when Tim called out to him. "And if Dick says anything to you…" Jason stopped and looked back at him, "don't trust him."

Jason didn't reply he only nodded and left, shutting the door behind him. Dick was tricky as hell. They had been foolish to not remember that…But were three days enough for sanity to return after a dip in the Lazarus Pit? The answer to that lay on the gurney in front of him. Dick never would have tried to throttle Damian while in his right mind.

* * *

Tim went to get some smelling salts to help wake Damian. It was time to consider their next step. Dick wasn't to be trusted yet, but they had already been here three days. They couldn't stay here much longer. Ready or not, it was time to take Dick home to Gotham City, and Bruce's assignment might just be the perfect answer to their problem of where to keep him. Tim paused as he reconsidered his conversation with Bruce. Like Jason said, the timing was too perfect to be coincidental. He knew that it wouldn't take Bruce long to figure out what they'd done, but Tim had expected anger at their disobedience.

He grabbed a chemical ice pack for Damian to use for the back of his head as he considered the oddity in Bruce's behavior. The only answer was that they had done what Bruce wanted to do himself all along. So, why didn't he? The only reasoning Tim could come up with was for Dick to have left Bruce instructions to not try and resurrect him and that was why he had been so adamant with with them about the idea. Tim smiled. So, Bruce allowed them to get away with ignoring his orders because he got exactly what he wanted, his eldest son returned to him without having to dishonor Dick's wishes, and now, Bruce was providing them with a means of holding Dick until he could regain his sanity.

Tim was good with all that. And he'd keep Bruce's knowledge a secret from him as well. Picking up the smelling salts, Tim returned his attraction back to Damian. Time for the Demon Spawn to wake up. He waved the ammonia beneath the younger boy's nose. The reaction was immediate. Damian jerked his head away from the strong scent and groaned as his hand traveled to reach for the back of his head. His eyes opened and Tim handed him the ice pack.

"That's the best I can do for you." Tim explained, "No pain killers when you have a concussion."

"What happened?" Damian asked, sitting up with help. That he allowed Tim to help showed how dazed and weak he was.

"You don't remember?" Tim asked.

"Would I have asked if I remembered?" Damian snapped as he gingerly placed the ice pack on the back of his head.

Tim sighed as he walked over to get a sling for the younger boy's arm. "You were in the cell with Dick. I don't know why, I came to relieve you and I found Dick choking you." He took the strap of the sling and looped it around Damian's neck and then gently placed the boy's arm into the sling. "He flipped you over his head, you landed wrong, that's how you injured your shoulder. Now do you remember anything?" He took a seat next to that gurney and looked at his little brother.

Damian thought for a moment and then his eyes widened, "I-I thought he was dead…"

"What do you mean you though he was dead?" Tim asked worried that the concussion could have had more of an effect of Damian than he originally thought. "What are you talking about?"

"Grayson has been so noisy…he was quiet and laying on the ground…very still…I've heard stories that the effects of the Lazarus Pit can fail…I-I thought…Richard is cunning…he played me for a damn fool!"

"Dami, it's okay. I would have done the same."

"Well, you're fool who doesn't know better." He huffed.

"It's okay, Dick can be crafty, we all have to watch out. Jason is getting him now, we will head back to Gotham once they get back, we have more resources." Tim said he was getting restraints ready on the gurney for when Jason came back with Dick. They would have to still keep their brother sedated as he would very easily be able to break them.

Jason came in a few moments later carrying Dick. It was a peculiar sight to see both young men sporting white streaks in their jet black hair. Jason's in the front of head in his bangs. Dick's streak was above his right ear.

With Tim's help Jason got Dick strapped down onto the gurney.

"Time to go home Grayson," Damian said running his hand over the white hairs on the side of Richard's head.

* * *

Bruce sat at his computer. He had been keeping and eye on the bunker that he asked the boys to clean out via a closed circuit TV, much like the one he used to watch the boys leave on the plane. None of them, not even Tim knew about these two monitors.

The billionaire vigilante watched as Tim and Damian enter into the secret bunker and then start to clear out the weapons. Jason must have been watching Dick. The first thing Bruce noticed was that Damian's arm was in a sling, something happened.

The two youngest boys made quick work of clearing out the weapons. This was truly an under utilized safe house and for that reason the weapons were kept to a minimum. Tim remained in the safe house doubled checking that the former weapon room would make a suitable containment for Dick. The room seemed to have passed Tim's inspection and then he too disappeared.

Moments later Bruce watched as his three sons pushed a gurney that held the body of his eldest. It was clear Dick was heavily drugged, but at the stage not to the point of being unconscious.

Bruce looked at the monitor as Jason lead Dick into the cell. Bruce felt a tear slip from his eyes as he watched his two resurrected sons walk together.

"He's back…" Bruce reached out and touched the monitor.

* * *

Jason, Tim, and Damian still took turns keeping a watch over Dick. They also had a new kink added in, they needed to keep up their appearances with Bruce. This was more true to Tim and Damian and they both still lived in the manor.

Everything was going to work out, it just had to.

Jason entered the bunker, he was coming to receive Tim.

"How's Dickiebird today?" Jason asked pulling his red iPod from the pocket of his signature brown leather jacket.

"He seems to be calming down a little. I don't know if there is any weight behind it, but he seemed to calm down once I started to read to him." Tim said.

Jason snorted, "only you Replacement." He laughed a little.

"I need to get to class," Tim said. "Damian slipped off to see the Teen Titans, so it you and Dick until I get out at four.

"Hear that Dickface? Me and you all day."

Dick grunted and pounded against the door.

"I agree! It does suck." Jason fit an ear bud into his left ear, but left his right ear free to keep an ear on Dick.

Tim rolled his eyes, "Have fun you two. Dick, try not to kill him."

Jason sat down in a chair and leaned back so the chair was only resting on two legs and then when he pressed play, the song started. As always, when he was alone, he started to sing along, in his bass voice.

 _Your heroes will help you find good in yourself_

 _Your friends won't forsake you for somebody else_

 _They'll both stand beside you through thick and through thin_

 _And that's how it goes with heroes and friends_

 _That's how it goes with heroes and friends._

"I looked up to you Dick…I still do…" Jason said. "You're not only my hero and friend…but my brother too."

He glanced at the door, he was finally able to tell Dick something he didn't have the confidence to say to say to his elder brother when he was of his right mind.

* * *

Bruce didn't know what to expect when he went to see Dick in person for the first time. All he knew was he wanted to see his son with his own eyes. He had been watching him in his secret closed circuit TV monitor, for the past several days. Waiting for the perfect moment to slip into see his son.

He took advantage of Tim having class and Jason being off with the Outlaws on a mission. He would have brief window that he could lure Damian away with a minor task so he could visit with his eldest son.

That sounds that came from the weapons closet turned containment cell. Bruce listened as the younger man pacing, there was some hesitations in his footsteps. It sounded like he was trying to talk, but it was more so grunts and growls.

He walked over to the door and placed his hand on it. He then closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against it.

"Dick…I did as you asked. I honored your wishes and let you be. But when your brothers took you to the Lazarus Pit, I let them. I let them because…I-I missed you

I could have stopped them. Maybe I should have, but if you decide to blame anyone for this later on…You can just go ahead and blame me.

I've had time to think back on my time with you and I realized I screwed up a lot with you. I regret those arguments and my stubbornness that kept us apart. You deserved better than to be my foot soldier. Despite that, I'll never regret taking you in, only that it took me so long to make you my son in truth. Although, you always my son on my heart.

I promise, this time will be better for you. You hardly need a father anymore. You've grown into a fine man, one I can be proud of, but I'd like to try. And not just you, but all your brothers, even Jason.

Welcome home, son, and try to remember…I love you."

Bruce turned to leave. He knew one of the boys would be be back soon. They didn't leave Dick alone for long. He took one last look at the door, this time there was silence behind it.

* * *

Dick was pounding on the door. He wanted to get out. In his fit of rage he could hear a familiar voice speaking. It wasn't one of the three he'd heard all along.

He stopped pounding so he could listen better. Why was this voice familiar?

"I love you too dad…" the words felt foreign on his lips.

* * *

 **A/N: ...And Bruce saw Dick *o***

 **Also, what did you think about Jason's little hidden talent? The song is Heroes and Friends By Randy Travis (yes Jaybird is a closet country boy. Take a listen to this song and you will see why I picked it.**

 **Thanks so much for all the support I have gotten on this fic so far, it really makes me excited to keep writing this fic. I love hearing from you so keep it coming!**

 **Big shout out to my friends over at Batman Writers Unite on Facebook who help me out when I am staring at my computer forgetting simple English words or wonder what type of music Jason would secretly listen to.**


	5. Do You Recognize Me?

Alfred pulled a key from his pocket, inserting it into the lock. Was it only a few weeks ago that he had locked it, never imagining that he would feel ready to face the memories that lived within. For fifteen years it had been occupied first by a charismatic ball of energy and then later by a most empathetic and caring young man. And, when that young man had moved to Blüdhaven, Alfred had lovingly kept the room up for those times when he returned for a visit. After Dick's funeral, however, he could do nothing else but close the door to it forever.

Now, miraculously, Alfred found he needed to prepare the room once more for its occupant. He opened the door and was immediately swamped with images of an inconsolable child weeping for parents forever lost, of a head bowed over his homework at the desk, of a teenager sprawled across the bed as he listened to some god-awful music that was popular at the time. He saw in his mind clothes draped off of the chair and discarded across the floor and wet towels hung off of shower curtain rods.

Blinking, Alfred glanced at what was now an immaculate room with only the slightest touch of dust and smell of disuse lingering in the air. Taking a breath, he walked purposely to the window and yanked open the drapes. Sunlight brightened the room, setting the dust motes to dancing. Strangely, Alfred felt a bit like dancing himself. He opened the window, smiling for the first time in weeks as he set to work banishing dust, changing the coverlet, and fluffing the pillows.

When he finished, Alfred's eyes landed on a picture of Dick and Bruce. The boy had been ten at the time. He sported a wide grin as he held up an autographed baseball in his hand. It was a home run ball that he caught during one of the few Gotham Knights baseball games Bruce had managed to take the boy to. The baseball, itself, was still displayed proudly next to the picture.

Alfred felt a tear slip down his cheek. He had not allowed himself to cry for the young man he considered a grandson when he had died, knowing when he did the weight of his grief would crush him. Oddly enough, it was now, when that the young man had returned, that the tears came unbidden. Alfred picked up a far more recent picture of the young masters, Richard and Damian. In it, Richard was leaning over young Damian's shoulder, using his fingers to force the boy's mouth into a smile even as Damian's eyes shot daggers at the camera.

"Oh, Master Richard," he murmured, smiling and wiping at damp eyes. "How we have missed you young sir."

* * *

It was a cold dark night in Gotham, a stark contradiction to the warm night in Keystone City. Wally came skidding to a stop in front of his best friend's grave. He held a beer in each hand, but quickly opened both, and placed one down. He tapped his bottle against the gravestone and took a long drink.

"You always have the answers, but…you didn't give me the answer for this. What the hell am I supposed to do if you die?" He ran a hand across his stinging eyes. "It's not the same without you…" he said aloud. "And it's not just me who thinks this…it's the whole team."

"I came so close to go back and changing it all. You can't know how badly I want to even now, and the damn the consequences! It would be so easy, and no one deserves to be saved more than you do. I've never admitted it before, but you've always been my hero; you've set the standard by which I've measured myself." Wally dropped to his knees and leaned his head against the cold granite stone. Tears dripped from his pale lashes, splattering on the base of his friend's headstone. "I miss you…God, so much! You should have called me…You know I would have dropped everything and come running."

Wally slapped the stone, angrily. "God damn it, Dick! I would have come running…"

* * *

Bruce wiped the sweat from his face with a towel after an intense workout. He was on his way to take a shower, when he paused by Alfred who was managing the Batcomputer. "Is that still Wally?"

"No sir, Mr. West must have departed shortly after you started your workout. This is Mr. Harper," Alfred informed him. "He arrived only a few moments ago."

Bruce frowned. "He's just staring at the headstone."

"People each grieve in their own ways," Alfred commented. "Perhaps we should inform them, sir?"

"They would want to see him and Dick's not ready," Bruce shook his head. "He'd hate for his friends to see him so out of control."

Alfred felt a twinge of pity for the grieving boys. "Yes," he sighed. "Of course, you're right, Master Bruce….I don't know it seems so cruel."

Bruce laid a hand on the older man's shoulder and squeezed gently. "I know, I'm sorry for it, too, but hopefully, it won't be much longer."

"From your mouth to God's ears, sir." Alfred murmured as he switched off the screen so he could allow the young man some privacy.

* * *

Roy looked blankly at the headstone. No matter how many times he read it he could believe it, Dick was really dead.

"When Timmy called a team meeting I knew, something was wrong. That kid never looks like he sleeps….but when he looked like hell. That's when I knew something was really wrong. I have never seen that kid at a loss for words. When he told us…"

 _"_ _Nightwing—Dick, died," Tim said with a soft monotone voice, tears slipping down his face. "My brother is dead…" He looked down at the floor._

Roy shook his head trying to clear the image of Tim standing in front of them breaking typical stoic exterior "You could hear a pin drop. We were all numb…" he looked blankly at the headstone again for several silent minutes.

 _Tim sniffled, "His funeral is Friday…"_

"I can't believe you didn't call anyone you idiot! Just one message, and you would have had a fucking team! Hell two teams! Your brothers would have come."

 _"_ _Currently we are keeping his death from the public…"_

Roy kicked the headstone, "You were always telling us to have back up plan…and what do you do…go and get yourself killed! If you weren't dead I'd kill you for dying!" Roy sighed and turned away as tears started to fall freely down his face.

* * *

The three brothers stared at the door. It had been a week since Jason, Tim, and Damian had brought Dick home to Gotham. They had decided unanimously that today Dick was going to recognize them. It had been a week, and slowly, day by day, their brother had managed to go for increasingly longer periods of time between his fits of rage. He had started to settle down, to remain calm when they needed to slip him food and water. They were going to go in the cell, but this time, it would be together. Safety in numbers and all that.

"Get behind me, Timmy," Jason instructed as Tim finished unlocking the door.

This was an easy order to follow. Tim could still sometimes feel phantom fingers choking him, and remembered how easily Dick had thrown him off when Tim had attempted to save Damian from him. Instead of entering first, however, Jason grabbed Damian and tried to shove the younger boy through the door ahead of him. When Damian balked, Jay picked the boy up bodily. Damian caught the door jam on either side with his feet.

"What the hell are you doing, Todd! Put me down this instant!" Damian yelped, struggling to free himself.

"Take it easy! Quit struggling, Spawn," Jason said, twisting to the side in order to force Damian through the door. "Dick likes you better than any of us. You should go first."

"Release me fool!" Damian grunted. "For the record, You're the only one that Grayson has yet to attack!"

"Hush! Shields don't talk," Jason told him.

"Drake! Tell him to put me down!" Damian demanded, kicking off and slamming Jay into the other side of the door's opening. The two of them blocked the entire entry.

Tim glanced into the room between them. He was surprised that Dick hadn't taken advantage and attacked in an attempt to escape. He might have managed it what with their ridiculous imitation of the Keystone Kops. Instead, he saw that their brother was ignoring their antics completely. Dick was sitting in the corner with his knees up, one arm draped lazily over the top of them. He was drawing in the dust on the floor with his finger.

"Stop it! Look," Tim pointed. "He's calm right now; no thanks to you two."

"Hey, Dickie," Jason called out. He set Damian down and waited to see what the elder brother would do.

Damian huffed, straightening his clothes, and stepped fully into the room of his own volition. He watched Dick warily.

Dick blinked, his finger hesitating before he glanced up, the blank look slowly fading from his eyes.

"Dami?" Dick climbed to his feet but made no moves toward them.

Looking first to the others, Damian approached his brother. "Yes, Grayson. You . . . You recognize me?"

Jason laid a hand on Damian's shoulder and stepped in front of him, cautiously. "Dick, it's Jason." He waved a hand at Tim to enter. "Tim's here, too. Do you remember us?"

Dick stared at each of them in turn, one at a time, and then frowned down at himself. He pressed his hand to his chest, confused. "I'm . . . not dead. Am I?"

"No. You're not, Goldie," Jason told him, smiling slightly. He stepped in front of the older man. "You're alive."

As Jason watched, he saw the sanity vanishing from within Dick's eyes as his brother started to growl. Dick lifted a hand in Jay's direction, his fingers curling into claws. Jason caught the hand in his and uncurled the fingers.

"Dick, stop. I'm your brother. I'm Jason," he repeated.

"Jay, be careful," Tim reminded him.

Like Jason could forget that after weeks of watching Dick act more like a rabid animal than someone who taught him how to ride a motorcycle his first year as Robin. Frowning, Dick yanked at his hand, but Jason refused to let go. Rather, Jay pulled his older brother to him and wrapped his arms around him, stroking Dick's back soothingly with one hand. Dick started to struggle, to pull away, but Jason held him tight.

"Sh . . . Hush! Quiet, now. It's okay. You're okay. It's just a hug, man. You love this crap," Jason whispered fiercely into his ear. Dick tried to get free again, but he didn't put much effort into it. Jason decided to take that at as a good sign, and not that Dick was getting ready to drop-kick him into next week. "Come on, fight it! You got this, Dickiebird! Just . . . focus on me. I'm Jason. I'm your brother. Remember? Little Wing?"

Tim waved at Damian and the two fell back a few steps to seem less threatening. That Dick hadn't gone loco on Jason yet was encouraging and they didn't want to screw it up somehow, not when it appeared to be working.

Jason loosened his grip and resumed rubbing circles on his brother's back, rocking them side to side gently. "You are Dick Grayson and you are stronger than this."

"J-Jason?" The name was muffled against Jay's shoulder. "Jay?"

"Yeah, it's me. I'm here for you, Dickiebird," Jay choked out, clutching his brother. "You're going to be just fine." And, when Dick started hugging him back, Jason knew it was the truth.

* * *

Damian walked into the safe house, his helmet from his Robin Cycle under one arm.

Tim was sitting at a computer screen open to the criminal database. On his left was an open notebook next to one of his college textbooks that too was open and propped against other. His forehead was currently resting on the table with his hand still clutching a coffee mug.

"Drake, you're sleeping on the job," Damian chastised.

"Five more minutes," Tim mumbled, not recognizing the speaker.

Damian sighed, if he knew anything about Tim it would be that, he was up all night studying and keeping an eye on Dick. The younger boy noticed a blanket near by and dropped is over his brother's shoulders and head.

Damian looked over at the cell where his eldest brother was. The young man inside was quiet. It was typical of Dick now to be quiet, but it still freaked him out a little. Since Tim was sleeping He doubted that Dick had his breakfast.

He went to the cupboard and took down a box of cereal, a bowl then he went to get milk. He made the simple breakfast for his brother and himself. Then brought it into him.

"Hello Grayson," Damian greeted extending out a bowl.

"Shh…Timmy sleep…" Dick pressed his finger to his lips before accepting the meal.

"Tt, I know, typical Drake." Damian sat cross legged on the floor across from his brother.

Dick looked at the bowl, took the spoon in his hand, then started to eat.

"It's all artificial sugar and fake chocolate. I thought you would like it."

"Good," the newly regenerated man continued to sloppily eat. Dick started to grunt after eating half of the cereal and his bowl fell from his hands, crashed into the ground, and shattered.

"Grayson it's okay," Damian said with a seldom heard gentleness to his voice. He placed his own bowl down to help pick up the pieces to the bowl. He could already see the frustration growing in his brother's eyes.

Dick went to pick up a broken piece, but the jagged edge cut his hand and started to bleed. "No!" His eyes hardened and his eyes narrowed. The slight look of sanity was fading.

The young man growled and looked Damian in the eyes, causing the latter of the two pull back. He knew that look, it was the same one he got before the young man started to strangle him. "Grayson…it's me, Dami, your Robin. Fight this fool!"

Dick looked to the spoon, that he still held in his hand in quizzically, then he drew his arm back and launched the utensil forward. Damian expertly dodged the makeshift weapon, leapt to his feet and ran from the cell. On his way his way out he tuned his head to see the spoon imbedded into the wall. Dick jumped to his feet and chased after Damian, who barely slipped out of the cell, only to have Dick start throwing himself self against the door.

Dick's antics woke Tim up with a start, he saw Damian standing with his back to the cell breathing heavily.

"Damian!" Tim jumped up tripping slightly over the blanket he was covered with.

"Slow down Drake, I am un harmed."

Tim could see the the distraught look on his younger brother's face. It went against what he said.

"Grayson, he—" Robin involuntarily jolted as Dick continued to pound on the door.

"I know…he's." Tim paused looking for the right thing to say. "He's still not ready…" he finished sadly.

"It's not an easy road to gain back your sanity, after being resurrected. We were naive to think Grayson could do it quickly…I knew what would happen…I saw the Pit renew my grandfather numerous times, why was I still so ill prepared to watch this happen to Grayson?"

"He always sees the best the in people," Tim put a hand on Damian's "it's hard not to hope for the best for him. Dick had been there for all of us at different times in our lives, now it's our turn to be there for him."

Tim lead Damian away from the door as Dick continued to throw himself against it.

"He's injured, he cut himself on the bowl." The teen explained.

"I will get the supplies," Tim walked over to the cabinet to pull down the first aid kit.

Tim and Damian had to wait until Dick calmed down before they entered.

"Hey Dickie," Tim spoke softly. He tried to avoid looking his eldest brother in the eyes, as the young man was still coming down from his fit. "Can I see your hand?" Tim held out his own, looking carefully up.

Dick was hesitant, but he gave his younger brother his injured hand. As soon as Tim touched it, Dick yanked it back.

"I won't hurt you," Tim kept his voice calm. "I want to help."

Red Robin waited patiently for Nightwing to return his hand to his own. After a few moments he did. Dick watched as Tim first cleaned the cut off with an antibacterial wipe, then he laid gauze on the shallow injury and wrapped it with more gauze and used tape to secure it in place.

Dick leaned forward and hugged Tim, who hugged him back.

* * *

Dick rolled over in his rather uncomfortable bed. He didn't know the time, he slept a great deal. Being underground he didn't see the sun and had a sleep-wake cycle that was off. He got up and walked over to the cell door.

"Jay? Timmy? Dami?" Dick called. He didn't get answer, this frustrated him, so he started to pound on the door and jiggle the handle. As he he did this he found that the door opened. Whoever was there last didn't lock it properly.

Dick pushed the door open and took a few slow steps into the bunker. He carefully looked around. He called to his brothers again, once again with no answer. The space he walked around was both familiar and foreign at the same time.

He found a mirror and looked at the reflection that looked back at him. He turned his head slightly and saw the signature white streak from his dip in the Lazarus Pit. He started to growl and then punched the mirror. He didn't care about his bleeding hand and he paced the room until he saw that exit. He then used his leg and kicked it open and wondered down the path until he was out in the fresh night air of Gotham.

* * *

 **A/N: We finally get to see Alfred's reaction, as well as Wally's and Roy's!**

 **Well Dick got out. That can't be good, what do you think will happen?**

 **Well everyone thanks to everyone who have faved, followed, and commented! You guys really make me happy when you do it so keep it going~**


	6. Batman and Son

Batman crouched on the gargoyle that protected the building housing Gotham's Diversified Bank. From its heights, he could see as far as Crime Alley. It was close to Red Hood's territory and closer still to the safe house where the boys were keeping watch over their brother. Since their return to Gotham, Batman found his patrols crossing the area far more frequently than normal.

It was quiet in Gotham tonight; it was a fact that was convenient for the Dark Knight as he was distracted by thoughts of his son - his newly-regenerated son, that is. He had been keeping track of Dick's progress through his video link at the safe house, and it was clear that Dick was having difficulty overcoming the effect of the Lazarus Pit and readjusting to reality. Although, memories were returning and his clarity of thought continued to improve, the fog of madness returned again and again at irregular intervals. During those times Dick was proving to be a danger to both himself and those around him. So far, he had allowed his other three sons to handle the situation without his interference, but if it continued without significant improvement for much longer, he would need to consider inserting himself.

A scream cut through the deserted streets, dragging Batman out of his head and back into the present. Shooting off his grapple gun, Batman threw himself off of the roof and toward the direction he suspected the woman's cry had come. He landed silently on the top of an run-down tenement building, the soles of his boots doing their part to hide his approach. He leaned over the edge to determine what he was dealing with, and spotted the victim, clothing torn, huddling with frightened eyes at the violence happening in front of her. Two men grappled between the woman and the opening to the alley, preventing her from escaping without risking a possibly greater injury.

He narrowed his eyes at the struggle. At first, it was difficult to tell which of the men was the attacker. They appeared evenly-matched, but then one of the pulled back and landed a series of powerful punches in perfect form. His skill was impressive. The man could be a homeless drifter, Batman thought. He wore dark trousers and a dirty shirt that had seen better days; his feet were bare, however. Ex-military? Whatever he was, it was obvious he was out of the other man's league. So much so, that Batman worried he would be witnessing a murder if he did not intercede immediately.

He was pulling a batarang out of his belt when the dark-haired assailant leapt up and spun into a tornado kick that broke the second man's jaw with a crack that could be heard from Batman's position four stories up. The victim slammed into the metal dumpster and fell to the concrete with a heavy thud.

This changed things . . . The man was a martial artist as well? Batman decided he would need to intercede with more than a mere batarang. He moved to drop onto his opponent, except the man suddenly wasn't there anymore. Landing with a roll, Batman came up onto his feet even as his eyes widened in disbelief. No one performed a triple somersault with such proficiency unless he was an accomplished acrobat, and Batman knew only one who could defy gravity and fly with such ease of movement.

"Dick?"

The word was out of his mouth before he could call it back, but it did what it was supposed to do. Dick Grayson gaped at him from atop the dumpster's lid. Looking at the young man, he was nearly unrecognizable. His hair was lank and stringy, and what was often the case, too long. Dirt and blood streaked his face and his knuckles were raw. Obviously this wasn't the first conflict he had been in tonight. But if there had been any doubt, it was those magnificent, cerulean blue eyes that declared their owner's identity.

How the hell had he escaped?

Dick was staring at him as if he had seen a demon from hell, but there was no recognition in the younger man's eyes.

At the sound of his name, the younger man flinched and stepped back into the shadows as if to somehow hide from the Bat. When Batman stepped forward, however, the boy growled and moved further behind the dumpster. Bruce blinked behind his cowl. Dick was afraid of him. If he hadn't recognized his son in his current condition, neither did Dick recognize Bruce as the Batman. Batman glanced down at the hamburger that was once the mugger's face. It was also obvious that Dick was in the midst of one of his violent streaks. He hadn't harmed the girl, however, so Batman took that as a good sign that his sense of right from wrong wasn't damaged, just his impulse control. Dick had tried to save an innocent but the influence of the pit had interfered and the violence of Dick's assault had escalated past what was safe.

He kneeled down slowly, his gloved hand searching for the carotid artery in the mugger's neck. It was the only place where the heartbeat was strong enough to feel through the leather. He found it without difficulty, a little fast, but steady. The man would be okay as long as he avoided any mirrors for a while.

He shot the woman a look where she was cowering. "Call 911," he ordered. "Instruct them to send an ambulance, too, and then wait for the cops." The guy was going nowhere anytime soon, so Batman turned the whole of his attention onto his son.

"Dick. Calm down," he ordered, as gently as he could as Batman. "Let me help you."

Dick's face twisted as he stared at the hood lying on the ground. "Is he . . . Did I?" Panic set in, then. "I killed him, didn't I?"

"What? No. He's . . ."

But, Dick didn't hear. He leapt up and grasped the edge of the fire escape and with a skill that could still take Bruce's breath away, flipped over his head and cleared the scene, landing at the mouth of the alley.

"Dick!" Batman called after him. "Wait!" Without a word, Batman rushed after the younger man.

But Dick was terrified now. If anything, he ran faster, darting around a couple out for a midnight stroll and between two cars. Batman knew what was coming, but it happened too fast for him to stop it. The truck slammed on its brakes to avoid hitting the fleeing man, but Dick flung himself out of the path at the last second . . . and in front of another vehicle. The acrobat rolled with the impact, up and over the hood, slamming against the windshield hard enough to crack the safety glass and off the other side.

"NO!" Batman used his grapple gun to yank him over the offending vehicles, landing on the hood of a parked car hard enough to dent it. He was down and beside his fallen son in the next heartbeat. "Dick!"

A thin stream of blood slid down from some cut within the hairline and down the side of his face, but Dick's eyelashes fluttered. He was conscious, at least, if knocked for a loop. Batman slid hands over his son's body, searching for breaks and other injuries. Finding nothing serious and reassured by checking his reflexes in his legs, Batman called the Batmobile to his location as he picked Dick up in his arms.

* * *

"How the fuck did you two morons let this happen! I wasn't the last one here. I've been in Blüdhaven pretending to be Nightwing!" Jason snapped annoyed.

"Tt, Father called me away, when I left Drake was still here. Fall asleep on the job again?" Damian crossed his arms and turned his back to his brothers.

"The Titans called me. I cannot keep bailing on them. I checked the locks before I left! Beside, Damian claimed he would be back after the mission, what happened?" Tim snapped.

"You know how father is! It was not a simple mission like he said."

"Then you find your back Spawn you were the only one in Gotham!"

"Drake was the last one out!" Damian turned around and shoved Tim.

"Oh what the hell." Jason rolled his eyes as Tim shoved back.

"You said you would be back with in the hour!"

"Hey! Knock it off!" Jason snapped banging their heads together. "Look, let's just stop arguing. We need to find Dickface before he gets out and starting causing trouble because we know Bruce will kill us all if he finds out that we not only resurrected Dick, but let him escape."

"Tt, no matter what Father will be angry we resurrected Richard, and beside this is all Drake's fault."

Jason picked Damian up by the back of his shirt. "I said stop it! Now let's go look for Dick. Tim, you go to the docks. Damian, take East Gotham. Call for back up if you see him. He's probably batshit crazy." He let go of Damian without warning, but the teen landed skillfully on his feet. "I don't want any complaints! Now go!"

* * *

When Batman arrived with Dick, Alfred was waiting. Bruce found it difficult to carry his son into the Batcave, because the last time he did the young man was dead, but thankfully this time the young man was just knocked out.

"I gave him a preliminary exam. He was struck by a car. I am going to check the video feed for the bunker. I need to find out how Dick got out." He didn't wanted to leave his son, but he needed to know how he get out.

He walked over to the computer and brought up the current feed, the entire bunker was empty. Either the three boys thought Dick was okay by himself, or they were out looking for him. He started to rewind the footage, until he saw Jason, Tim and Damian leaving. Bruce knew they would be fine looking for their brother, stressed but fine. So he continued to rewind the footage to find how Dick got out.

He saw Tim was the last one, he watched as Tim checked the doorknob to the cell where Dick was, it was locked. He stopped and then laid his hand on the door and started to talk to his brother. Bruce turned the volume on.

 _"_ _You're leaving?" Dick asked._

 _"_ _Sorry, the Titans called me. I've been skipping out on my duties with no explanation."_

 _"_ _Wally? Roy?"_

 _"_ _They miss you. The entire team does. We will make sure you get better and you can go back to leading the Titans."_

After a little while he heard Dick shaking the handle of the door, after some work it opened. Bruce's narrowed his eyes looking, he saw Tim lock the door. But perhaps all the banging Dick did again the door, warped it. The other option was Dick used his enhanced strength to damage it.

Bruce sighed and turned around, "Alfred how is he?"

"He had a minor cut on his head from the impact with the car, it required six stitches. He his going to be in sore, but I gave him some medication to ease his pain. Should I restrain him?"

Bruce ran his hand over his head, "We will have to, I don't know what he will be like when he wakes up. We will have to find a place to keep if his his is still consumed by the madness. Stay with him, call me if he wakes. I need to find a place for him to stay until his temperament is easier to control."

"Might I suggest contacting his brothers as well." Alfred said.

Bruce gave a twisted smile, "let's get Dick settled first."

* * *

Bruce found it hard to hear Dick throw himself against the door to his cell as he paced around the Batcave. He wasn't in uniform, he was just in his regular street clothes. The young man spent the entire night sleeping, unlike the older man who stayed up the entire night incase his son woke up. Bruce had an emergency cell in his Cave, but he never imagined it's first occupant would be his own son, but seeing he still exhibited the same behavior as he is in the bunker, he knew it was for the better. At least until he could talk to him, and bring him up into the manor it's self now that it's been properly prepped for him return home.

Jason, Tim, and Damian stood watching him. All three boys had taken their turns trying to convince their father to sleep, all failed.

"He does that less now. It's usually just when he wakes up. "Tim said handing Bruce a bowl of cereal, that Alfred brought down for them.

"And when he's hungry or pissed or bored—" Jason stopped when Tim sent him a Bat glare, that made him cringe.

"Thank you Tim." He walked over to the door.

"Wait, you need your bowl too."

"I am not eating cereal," Bruce said looking at the second bowl.

"Dick likes it when you eat with him. He doesn't like being alone. That's why we talk or read to him when the door is closed. Even just…" Tim paused, "see he's already calmed down."

Bruce hesitated and took the second bowl, while Jason opened the door to Dick's cell. When he entered the cell the young man was now sitting in the middle of the floor, but once he saw his adopted father he scurried back, in a reverse crab walk.

"Dick, it's okay. It's Bruce." He tried to make his voice sound a gentle and calm as possible.

The young man looked at him and tilted his head, "dad?"

Bruce froze, he felt a flutter in his heart. Never had Dick directly called him that before. "yes, son?" He looked into the young man's eyes looking for the recognition they lacked when he found in the alley after his escape.

"You came back?" His voice was almost child-like.

Bruce knelt down and placed the two bowls of cereal on the floor and pulled the young man into a tight hug. He felt tear run down his face, he finally had his eldest so back. He didn't want to let go. "you heard me," Bruce murmured. Reluctantly he let go. "You must be hungry," he handed his son the bowl of cereal.

Dick reached forward and took the bowl then brought the spoon to his mouth and took a bite. Bruce hesitated, but did the same.

Bruce looked up at his son, the young man's long bangs covered his eyes, he looked above his right ear and saw the signature white streak of taking a bath in the Lazarus Pit.

"You listened to me...but I'm alive..." he left his spoon in his bowl and touched his chest.

"I did. You didn't hold your brothers to the same promise. Th-they wanted you back." Bruce took a deep breath. "And I'm not mad at them. Are you ready to go home?"

* * *

 **A/N:** **Okay everyone can** **relax! Batman to the rescue!**

 **You guys continue to make me feel special by liking, faving, and following this fic! I am so glad you are all enjoying it! Incase I don't catch you all before the holidays I hope you have a great holiday season!**

 **Special shout out to Alex and my friends at Batman Writers Unite on Facebook for helping me when I need it.**


	7. Memories (revised)

"Dick?" Bruce called.

"Just one minute," the young man responded.

Bruce was anxiously waiting. Today was the day they were going to take Dick up to the manor. After a few moments Dick stepped out from the changing room. He was showered and changed for the first time. He was wearing gray sweatpants and blue t-shirt that read 'In my defense I was left unsupervised' in a black blocky font.

Bruce could not help but to chuckle at it. Dick's hair was still long, but the boys wanted to be careful with anything that could become a weapon around the young man. He seeing the young man looking more like himself, and less like a vagabond.

"Alfred has made a nice breakfast," the billionaire said as Dick walked towards him.

Dick nodded as he looked around the Batcave as they walked to the stairs to the main manor. It was as if he was trying to remember the space. Dick ran his fingers against the wall as they walked. He ran across a familiar dent.

"I remember this…" Dick murmured.

Bruce looked over at the young man.

"It was from when I was just starting…you finally let me go out on my own." Dick closed his eyes remembering like it was yesterday. "It should have been an easy call. I was already out patrolling the city…there was a call about a robbery from a small appliance store…There was one worker, and two robbers…"

Bruce looked over at Dick again, he knew this story he remembered that night too.

"I was out matched…but I wanted to prove to you that I could do it. I stopped them…I didn't even realize I was shot until I was on the R-Cycle. I started to feel dizzy and nauseous. one minute I was drive through the streets of Gotham and the next minute I was crashing into that wall…Good thing I had my helmet…"

By this time they were halfway up the stairs, Dick's lips formed into a smile. "it's good to be home."

"It's good to have you home," Bruce responded as he pressed the button that activated the grandfather clock from the reverse side. He placed his hand on the young man's shoulder.

The door slid open and Dick stepped into the familiar space. So many times he had come in here. When he first came to live at the manor and he kept wondering why Bruce spent so much time working, at eight he truly though he was though the man who took him in was that devoted to running Wayne Enterprise. The reality was shocking when he found out and eventually he would find himself aiding in Batman's crusade. Then finally branching out on his own, in his own city. Even taking up the mantle of Batman himself for a period of time.

Bruce clamped his hand on Dick's shoulder as they made their way into the kitchen where Alfred, Jason, Tim, and Damian were waiting.

"Good to see you Master Dick," Alfred smiled warmly. "I have made your favorite, strawberry stuffed French Toast with fresh whipped cream, and Vermont maple syrup. Along with fried eggs, and apple wood smoked bacon."

"It's good to see you too," Dick gave a half smile, "it smells amazing. I've missed your cooking."

Bruce took his seat at the head of the table, with Dick to his right, and Damian sitting next to him. Jason was on his left with Tim sitting next to him. This would be the first time they had eaten as a family in a long time, since even before Dick's death. Only Damian lived at home full time. Tim was attending school at Ivy University and both Dick and Jason had their own places.

* * *

As Alfred was clearing the breakfast dishes away, he brushed against Dick's shoulder as he reached past him. Dick sucked in a breath in alarm, the touch, although expected, seemed to drag the young man back beneath the roiling waves of madness. He spun instantly, grabbing the older man and thrusting him hard against the wall, enough to rattle the dishes in the cupboard nearby. Dick snarled into his face as he held Alfred off of the floor by several inches, his forearm across the butler's throat.

Chairs crashed to the floor and glasses overturned as Bruce and his brothers leapt to their feet. Damian, the closest, held out his arms to keep the others back. A physical assault would only worsen his brother's reaction, possibly causing Alfred to be injured as a result.

"Richard?" Damian called to him. "Richard, get hold of yourself. You're stronger than this." He struggled to keep his voice calm yet firm. "Let Pennyworth go. You're hurting him."

Dick blinked rapidly as he reigned in his anger. What was he angry about? He didn't know. As the red over his vision cleared, Dick found himself staring into the startled gaze of the man he had always thought of as a grandfather. Shame flooded him as he realized what he had done. Stepping back, Dick lowered Alfred back onto his feet.

"I-I'm sorry . . . Alfred, I . . ." Dick reached over to help the older man straighten his jacket only to pull back when the butler flinched away from him. Alfred was afraid of him! "Oh God, Alfred. I'm so - so sorry."

Dick spun around and gazed into the accusing eyes of his family. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean . . . I wouldn't have hurt . . ." But he cut himself off when he realized that that was exactly what he would have done had Damian not snapped him out of his madness. He stared down at his shaking hands in horror.

'I can't be here! I can't be with these people!' Dick thought wildly. He shoved past them, running out of the room.

Jason and Damian watched their brother leave as Bruce rushed to aging butler and Tim went to get a cup of tea.

"Alfred," Bruce caught his long-time friend by the arm, leading him to a chair, "are you hurt?"

Alfred stiffened his back, refusing to sit. Brushing away their concern, he took a deep breath and gathered his wits about him. "Yes sir," Alfred told him. "I am quite alright. You may stop fussing now. Master Dick only had me by the fabric of my shirt." He cleared his throat. "I assure you, there was no harm done."

Tim came over to Alfred and handed the man his favorite hot beverage, "here you go Alfred," the young man smiled before going to join his brothers.

"Should we go after him?" Tim asked.

"No, let him clear his mind on his own for a little while," Jason said.

* * *

Bruce entered the Batcave in his search for his eldest son. Dick's outburst that morning had been short-lived; his control of his rage was improving. It seemed to be moving along at a much faster pace than Jason's had, at least, according to his second son but then, Dick hadn't started with the same depth of darkness as his brother. As such, Dick's journey back to sanity shouldn't take a year or more to accomplish.

Although it had taken weeks, Dick was more himself now. And, while Bruce had been furious with his three remaining sons for taking Dick to the Lazarus Pit against his express orders. Bruce's hands had been tied by Dick's wishes, the same hadn't been true for his brothers. Dick was coming back to them, a little bit at a time, and Bruce was grateful for this. Still, he couldn't help worrying about him.

He knew exactly where Dick would be after his initial search of the manor had proven fruitless. Jason hated to be underground but Dick, strangely enough, still searched out the quiet he could only find in the cave. This was a spot that Dick had often retreated to as a boy, and it looked as though he was continuing the habit as an adult. Bruce looked up at the trapeze he and Alfred had built for the boy on his tenth birthday, and immediately spotted a pair of legs swinging aimlessly from the edge of the platform.

Bruce climbed the ladder, taking care not to hide his approach. Dick wasn't responding well when caught off guard. Bruce wasn't sure if that unusual reaction came from Dick's dip into the Lazarus Pit or if stemmed from the circumstances that surrounded his death. The younger man refused to speak about his murder.

Sitting down next to him, Bruce noted his distraction. His son gazed blankly into the hidden recesses of the cavern, staring at nothing that Bruce could detect.

"Dick?"

The younger man didn't respond to him right away, although Bruce could tell he was not so distant that he didn't realize he had company. Eventually, Dick took a deep breath, sighing. He didn't look at Bruce when he finally spoke, however, just asked his question, giving Bruce a small glimpse into the thoughts that had driven him up here in the first place.

"Are you glad that I'm back?" the younger man asked.

Bruce placed a hand on Dick's shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. "Of course, I'm glad you're back. You are my son. Everything felt . . . off, wrong. It wasn't the same without you here. It hurt me to tell Damian no when he suggested the Lazarus Pit. Had it been up to him, we would have gone there as soon as we found you." He felt Dick tense beside him.

"I'm so confused, Bruce," Dick murmured quietly. "I feel like I don't belong anymore."

"Here?"

"Anywhere!" Dick cried out. He stopped abruptly, visibly forcing himself to settle, to calm. When he spoke again, it was as soft as it had been before his outburst. "I don't feel like me, anymore. I mean I thought I would be at peace if I died, but . . . coming back after . . . that . . .I don't want to do it again. I understand now why Ra's is so fond of using the Pit."

Bruce was quiet as he considered his son's words. It was the first time Dick had spoken of his experience. "Jason . . . I don't think Jason would agree with you."

"Jason," Dick sighed. "The coming back was hard," he admitted, "but, maybe Jason had been ready to leave. All I know is that I wasn't."

"You told me to not revive you," Bruce looked at him, stricken. "Dick . . . son, I wouldn't have . . ."

"Stop! Bruce, please," Dick finally looked over at the man who had raised him. "It's okay . . . now. I think. I just . . ." He broke off to shiver.

"You're cold," Bruce observed. "We should go back up to the manor. Alfred can make you hot cocoa."

Dick caught his breath. "Alfred! Oh, my God . . . How can I ever face him after I . . ."

Bruce slid his arm around Dick's shoulders, something he hadn't done in - years. "He understands you weren't yourself, Dick. You didn't hurt him. He wouldn't want you to feel guilty over something you had no control over."

Dick shuddered with an unnamed emotion. "I don't deserve his forgiveness."

"Alfred would say that there is nothing to forgive."

Dick blinked at that. "When did Alfred go crazy?"

Bruce chuckled. "Oh, that was years ago! Long before you came to the manor, son. Trust me on that."

"You know?" Dick smiled ever so slightly. "Cocoa sounds really good right now."

* * *

Dick was wandering around the Batcave, looking at the displays, hoping to pull out more of his memories and with them, what 'home' feels like. Sometimes, he would look at something familiar, but it failed to invoke any emotion in him, and Dick was desperate to feel something - anything - besides anger and anxiety. Bruce and Alfred thought that those particular emotions might be related to his death - his murder, but Dick couldn't be sure. He had died from a brain hemorrhage ultimately, and that meant that the memories associated around the time of his death were fuzzy and insubstantial. And being a crime-fighter since the ripe-old age of nine meant that he couldn't be sure if what he did remember was from that night or from some other patrol gone bad . . . and, there had been several of those over the years.

He ran his fingers over the glass partition separating him from his costume. Bruce had set it up here next to Jason's display case. Beside Jason's battered costume, Dick's Nightwing costume looked pristine. That meant that Bruce had the one he had worn that night in the lab, still searching for some clue as to what had happened that night, what had gone wrong. He only wished he could be more help.

Jason remembered the details surrounding his death vividly. He had told Dick to be thankful that he wouldn't be haunted by that memory, but Dick couldn't help feeling he was somehow failing his family in this way. It was the reason he decided to walk the cave, hoping to bring back the particulars of the traumatic event. He paused, considering before turning in the direction of Bruce's lab. Maybe, if he handled the cloth, smelled it, examined both the costume and his weapons, it would spur a memory and help lead them to his killer.

There must be something behind it. He couldn't believe he had been bested by a common street thug. He suspected that he had been onto something big or, at least, something bad. If he had failed and others had suffered for it . . . Yeah, he decided, that could definitely be behind the anger and the anxiety I'm feeling. He was onto something. Dick picked up his pace, all but sprinting to the alcove that held Bruce's lab equipment. The anxiety that seemed to always hover around the edges of his brain spiked as he entered. It took only a second to locate the table that held his battered costume, his escrima sticks, and whatever clues that Bruce and the others had collected.

He felt the heft of his suit in his hands, the weight of the Kevlar that protected his vital organs sewn into the heavy Nomax material. He fingered the tears before lifting it to his face and breathing in deeply . . . and felt the cold wind in his face for a moment. Outside. He had been outside. The smell of old metal from his blood stimulated remembered pain of a fist to the ribs, the graze of knuckles along his jaw, but his attacker had remained in the shadows of his mind. Still, he was closer to an answer.

He set the shirt down and looked down at a petri dish. Inside was a tooth. Dick ran his tongue around the inside of his mouth. All his teeth remained intact. As he understood it, the Lazarus Pit would have fixed his teeth even as it mended broken bones and knitted the holes in his muscles from injuries sustained and the rot of death. But this tooth hadn't belonged to him. He was sure of it.

Picking up the molar, Dick could see it was dark and pitted from a cavity. If there anything that living with Bruce had given Dick, it had been excellent dental care. He had been gifted with strong, even teeth from good genes, but Dick had never had a cavity. All of his broken or loosened teeth had been repaired by experts in the field, something that only a thorough medical examiner might discover upon close inspection.

Nightwing had knocked this tooth out of his attacker, then. He had obviously saved his murderer from a dentist appointment when he did this.

Dick's eyes located his escrima sticks. One had been set aside, but the other sat prominently in front. Had Bruce discovered something? Blood from his killer, perhaps, from when Dick had knocked the guy's tooth out? He picked up the stick in question, turning it over in his hands while he examined it.

BYE . . . "Goodbye?" No, he thought, the letters are too far apart to be a word. An acronym, then. "B.Y.E." Why did this seem familiar? He ran his thumb over the rough edges of the letters, carved into the stick with something sharp - a batarang, probably.

Dick closed his eyes, remembering.

 _Many Months ago, in another lifetime, he had sat, perched on a nearby tenement building. He could see it over tops of the trees, the spotlights illuminating the bold red strips that decorated the big top of the visiting circus. This one wasn't his. Haly's stripes were green and blue and white now; he had done away with the garish red years ago after the color had faded to a mottled pink. The green and blue had been a good deal because no one wanted to go to an aging circus._

 _Out of the darkness, emerging from the trees, came an old woman. Her black shawl covered the white of her hair and the bright hues of her dress, but there was no missing the sparkle of gold bangles on the one skinny arm that was exposed where it clutched the material tight against the cool temperatures. The bracelets glinted and flashed in the streetlights as she shuffled closer._

 _He grinned before leaping off the building's roof, spread eagle, using his body to slow his descent. Then, as he passed the third story, Nightwing caught one of the vertical rails of the fire escape and swung around his body around it. Tucking into a ball, he performed his famous quadruple somersault, landing lightly on the top of the dumpster, only to backflip onto the sidewalk without a sound. He stuck the landing, and it was all he could do to not throw his hands in the air like he would have at the end of a show._

 _The sound of clapping told him his performance was appreciated._

 _"You are everything your parents hoped you would be," Nikolina said in thickly-accented English. "They would be pleased you didn't let your talent waste."_

 _Of course, she would recognize him, mask or no. Bruce would have had his hide had he known, but the Romani fortune-teller had asked to meet him late . . . and, well, he had never managed to pull one over on the uncanny woman yet. Dick couldn't help showing off just a bit for an old family friend, and no one could keep a secret better than the Rom._

 _"Sar si sogodi, Nikolina?" [How are you, Nikolina?] Dick said in Romani, smiling. He stepped in and hugged the older woman, carefully, because she felt so fragile beneath his hands. Last time he had seen her, Nikolina had already been in her forties, but she had had a strong grip, used to catching sassy youngsters intent on mischief as they had run by her._

 _"Sastipe." [hello]," she greeted him in return, hanging onto him for a long moment. She finally stepped back, looking up at him with bright eyes, indicating her mind was just as sharp as ever. "Now, I must look up to see you, not like before. You have grown, pasarica [little bird]. No more the tiny robin, but a great hawk swooping down from the skies, eh?"_

 _She patted his cheek with cold fingers. Dick took her hand in his to warm them. "Something like that," he said, laughing. "Do you think my father would share that view? If he could see me now, I mean?"_

 _"Nu fi nebon," she snapped. [Don't be foolish!] Of course, they can see you, child. They are not unhappy to see you now, a champion of the weak and the helpless. They have much to be proud of."_

 _Dick squeezed her hand appreciatively. If anyone could know what a dead man was thinking, it would be Nikolina. His father had often said that she had been 'touched', referring to her gift of second sight. "I'll admit I'm a little shocked that you left Haly's for this place."_

 _"It was never the same without you and your parents," she sighed. "I never could bring myself to forgive the old man for letting you go afterwards. I left after that tour."_

 _"Oh, Nikkie, Pops couldn't help that," Dick told her. "The courts would have taken me by force if necessary. He couldn't have risked an altercation. He had the rest of the circus to look out for."_

 _She sneered. "The Gadjo courts! What do they know? You belonged with us. We were your family!" She sighed. "Are you happy here? I read terrible things about the rich Gadjo that took you in. Did he treat you well?"_

 _Dick nodded. He and Bruce had had their ups and downs over the years, but Dick wouldn't have traded a second of it. After his parents had died, Bruce had been a rock in what had seemed like a turbulent ocean of uncertainty and fear. Without Bruce, Dick knew without a doubt he would have been lost._

 _"He was the best, Nikkie," he reassured her. "I would have drowned out here without him. Yes, I've been happy." He glanced around at the trash blowing down the cold, wet streets and pulled the woman further out of the wind. "Now, tell me, why did you send for me?" he asked. "And why here?" He indicated their surroundings. "I would have been happy to come to your trailer after the show as myself."_

 _"No," she shook her head. "Not there. Bristol, Yardley, and Easton were awful people, but their children own the circus now, you see, and they make their parents look like saints," Nikolina whispered to him. "They are most horrid."_

 _"I remember Pops talking about them. Edmond Bristol, Emily Yardley, and Brandon Easton, correct?" Dick had looked up information about the circus when he had received Nikolina's message to meet her. "The children . . . Nathan Bristol and Rachel Easton are running the show now."_

 _She nodded again, clarifying. "Yes. Nathan is the son of Edmond and Emily. Rachel is the daughter of Brandon and Leah, one of the circus' lion tamers._

 _"They're more than partners, though," Dick murmured. "They married."_

 _"You'd never know to watch them," Nikolina scoffed. "Always bickering, those two. They act more like siblings than spouses."_

 _"But the circus keeps them together," Dick surmised._

 _The old woman shrugged her shoulders and turned away, unable to face him. "The circus? I could not tell you this, but business? Oh yes, for money, those two will stay together. Greed is a trait they share." She shivered, tugging her shawl closer about her shoulders._

 _Frowning, Dick rubbed his hands along her upper arms, hoping to warm her. "It is too cold and damp out here, Nikkie. You shouldn't have risked pneumonia to talk to me. I would have come to you."_

 _"No. No. The son of The Flying Graysons should never be seen stepping foot inside the Bristol, Yardley, and Easton Circus," she hissed. "I read about you, you know, in the papers a year later. The colorful bird that would flip and somersault around evil men, fighting alongside of a man dressed as a Bat."_

 _Dick blinked. "You knew?"_

 _"It was not so difficult as that. I saw the one in the other. Different feathers, but you fly the same," she smirked._

 _"Does anyone else know?" This could be bad . . . But, it's been years with no rumors being spread._

 _"I suspect Jack knows," she told him, speaking of Haly. "Maybe there are others, but we are family, Dickie. We stick together even though the world tears us apart. No one would ever reveal your secrets," she reassured him soberly. Then, she winked. "They would fear my wrath."_

 _"Your wrath?" Dick smiled._

 _"Did you forget?" she chided him. "The evil eye, pasarica. [little bird] Nikolina has the 'gift'." The shiver crawled up his spine, and she saw, laughing. "I see that you did not. It's good, yes? Good to remember old Nikolina is not a woman to trifle with."_

 _"I remember," he agreed. "Nikolina, you could have met me in the daytime if you only wanted to reminisce. What's wrong, and how can I help you?"_

 _Nikolina shook her head. "I would not trouble you, Dickie, but you are a famous hero now. You deal with bad people, help others. You must help me, too." She glanced up, and he was shocked at the sadness and desperation in her eyes. "These people, Nathan and Rachel deal with, are very bad. They hurt people."_

 _Dick sobered. "Why didn't you call the police, Nikki? Why did you wait until you came to Gotham to ask for help?"_

 _"This is an internal matter. It is not for outsiders to come into our business," she said hotly. "This is why I come to you. You are one of us. We trust no one else. There are still a few good ones in the troupe. They must be protected. You would do this for us."_

 _Put that way, how could he refuse._

 _"Okay, Nikkie, but we can't talk here. It's too cold for you. Let's get you back to your trailer and then, you can tell me all there is to this," he lifted a hand to stave off any protests of him returning her to the circus personally. "No arguments! Those are my terms. I will help you with this problem, but I won't help you get sick. Deal?"_

Dick blinked as he returned to the present. How long had he been standing here in the cave? He still held his escrima stick in his hand. He ran his thumb over the letters again. He knew what they stood for . . . and, he remembered the trouble Nikolina had come to him about. No wonder he was wracked by anxiety. He had failed when there had been people counting on him. Although, he couldn't quite see his murderer's face yet, he did remember one vital bit of information about his death: he had been betrayed.

Dick had known the person who had killed him.

* * *

 **A/N: Soooo what do ya think? Dick is getting close to remembering what** **happened. Do you have an idea of what's going on?**

 **I would love to thank everyone who has read, faved, followed, and reviewed this fic!**

 **Thanks to the super amazing Alex for helping me! and thanks to my friends over at Batman Writers Unite on Facebook for all your support!**


	8. Good Night

It had been a long night. Batman had foiled three robberies, two rapes, and four muggings before spending the next hour nearly single-handedly putting an end to a gang war that had erupted downtown, over one hundred-twenty combatants spanning three blocks. Batman had taken down ninety-eight of them, managing it without serious injury. But, he was sore.

He had come back to the Batcave and headed straight into the shower, eager to rid himself of the smell of strangers' blood that seemed to linger even after he had removed his suit. Twenty minutes later, he had dressed and headed upstairs to the manor, more than ready to collapse into his bed. He planned to sleep until noon. At the top of the stairs leading to the family's wing, Bruce's thoughts turned towards his sons, toward Dick in particular as had been his wont since the young man's death, and most especially since his resurrection at his brothers' hands.

The rage Dick suffered coming back from the Lazarus Pit was easing finally, coming in brief spurts at odd moments, set off by triggers both known and unknown. They'd learned that they couldn't come up from behind him and, God forbid anyone brush against him unexpectedly, but there were still moments when the incidents seemed random, without any perceivable cause.

Bruce's feet paused of their own accord outside of Dick's room. The habit he had developed of checking on his eldest son since his return had apparently become ingrained. It reminded the man of the first time he had done this all those years ago, when Dick was eight and had just come to live with him for the first time. Those early months, Bruce had worried that one night he would check on the boy only to find him gone. His fear was that Zucco might have come to finish the job while he'd been out, which was ridiculous as the manor's security was nigh on impenetrable. And then, there had been his fear that the boy had run away, impatient to wait for Zucco to receive justice. That last fear hadn't been nearly so absurd, Bruce remembered, as it had come to pass. Batman had barely caught up with the boy in time to save his life.

He shook himself from those memories in an effort to alleviate the nervous jitters in his gut. This wasn't the same thing.

Taking a breath, Bruce eased the door to Dick's room open to check on him, only to find the covers turned back and his nightmare come to fruition. The bed was empty. A quick glance around the darkened room was enough to assure the man that it too was empty.

"Dick?" He called. The boy could have simply gone to the bathroom, he told himself. However, when no reply followed his inquiry, Bruce stepped into the room. From here, he could see that the bathroom door was open, its light off.

Bruce frowned. He knew Dick was having some trouble sleeping but, having just come up from the cave, he also knew that Dick hadn't been there. Neither had he been in the kitchen. Bruce would have seen the light under the door as he had passed by the dining room. The young man had never made it a habit to roam the house at night in the dark. It was unlikely he would have started it now. Stepping back out into the hall, Bruce closed the door behind him. Perhaps, Dick had gone into one of his brother's rooms for company.

Walking across the hall, he cracked open Jason's door, peering in. Dick had become much closer to Jason since his resurrection. Bruce thought this might possibly be linked to their shared death experience. Jason certainly seemed to understand what his brother was going through. It would be hard not to be drawn to that.

The room was meticulously organized and spotless, with the exception of Jay's uniform thrown in disarray across his floor. Bruce knew Red Hood had gone patrolling this evening as well, though his and Batman's paths hadn't crossed. He must have had a rough night as well to have not taken better care of his things.

Looking to the bed, Bruce noticed immediately that, although Jason was present, Dick was missing. Jason lay sprawled haphazardly across the bed, arms splayed wide with one of the young man's legs hanging loosely off the side. Unlike the younger boys, Jason slept in naught but his boxers. That hadn't always been the case. When Jason had first come to live at the manor, he would start every night in a set of pajamas only to be stripped naked before the dawn. Jay didn't bother with the pajamas at all anymore. Bruce smirked. Jason must have only gotten in shortly before him. He obviously hadn't had enough time yet to have divested himself of his underwear.

Entering quietly, he made his way over, returning the discarded pillow to the bed. Bruce carefully lifted the errant leg back onto the mattress without waking him. Jason immediately snorted and rolled onto his side, pulling the pillow against his chest before letting out a heavy sigh. Picking up the covers from the floor, Bruce covered Jason against the chill of the night. It would be an errand of futility. He knew that both the pillow and the blankets would be back on the floor by morning.

Jason was not a tranquil sleeper.

Bruce slipped out of the room before he could wake him. He knew without being told that Jay had earned his sleep this night.

He made his way to the room next door. Tim's room hadn't always been next to Jason's. It had once been next to Dick's room, but the advent of Damian to the family had necessitated some adjustments for everyone in the manor. Poor Tim had taken the brunt of it, having to give up his room first and his place as Robin next. Bruce wouldn't have allowed Damian so much leeway, but he had been lost in the annals of time when this had occurred. Dick had taken over both as Batman during his absence and as head of the family, and he had done a remarkable job at both even if Bruce would have made different decisions himself. It all worked out in the end and that was all that mattered.

The differences between each of his sons were no more evident than when he opened the door to Tim's room. The light from the moon shone across the room, illuminating both the bed and the mess littering the floor. Tim slept in the center of the bed in a fetal position facing the door, clutching his pillow like a lifeline. Bruce didn't have to touch it to know that the pillow would be soaked - again. The teen's mouth hung open whenever he slept, drenching yet another pillow with his drool. Alfred learned long ago to keep a large stock on hand to change out every few days.

What else the moonlight revealed was that Tim was the room's sole occupant. Again, no Dick here. Well, it had been a long shot.

No one liked trying to walk across Tim's room, particularly at night. Several of the teenager's schoolbooks cluttered the bed around him, like little soldiers, preventing anyone from finding space enough to join its owner had he wanted to. And, while Tim's mind might have been a steel trap of facts, cases, dates, and clues that he kept separated and filed with intricate precision, the same could not be said for the rest of the teen's possessions. The Riddler couldn't have done a better job when creating one of his complicated traps he loved to set for the Batman.

But, at least, Batman could wear boots when up against Riddler. Bruce looked down at his woefully inadequate slippers, sighing. Rather than leave the boy as is, Bruce carefully picked his way to the bed to remove the books. How many times had Tim showed up at the breakfast table with a book's imprint still visible on his cheek?

Several minutes later, Bruce exited the room, still wincing from discovering some long-lost LEGO amongst the clothes, books, and whatever other items littering the floor.

That left Damian's room. Before the resurrection, Damian got along with Dick best . . . Bruce frowned. No, that wasn't an entirely accurate statement.

What he meant was, that before the resurrection, Dick was perhaps the only one of the family to get along with Damian. He shook his head over that fact. Damian wasn't the easiest person to be around during the best of times, although, what Dick had done with the boy was, quite frankly, amazing. The two definitely shared some sort of special bond. During Bruce's absence, the Dick and Damian had been Batman and Robin and, even now, the evidence of that partnership and bond stayed true.

Opening Damian's bedroom door, Bruce stood in the entrance and surveyed the room. Unlike his brothers, Damian's room was kept sparse, utilitarian almost. His youngest son's only possessions that could be seen at a glance were his weapons, which he displayed prominently on the wall surrounding his bed. To look at it, one might not guess that anyone occupied the space - except for the presence of the boy currently lying in the middle of the bed.

Damian slept like the dead.

Not that he slept deeply. He didn't. It was that Damian slept in a position that resembled nothing more than a corpse laid out for a wake. It was more than a little disturbing and had taken Bruce some time to get used to. But, even from this distance, Bruce could see Damian's chest as it rose and fell with each breath. Other than that small movement, there was nothing else to assure him that the boy still lived. Unfortunately, what Bruce could also see was that Damian was alone. He didn't bother entering the room. Despite Damian's odd sleeping behavior, he woke quickly and easily to noise and vibration.

"Sleep well, Damian," Bruce whispered after he pulled the door shut behind him.

Uncertain where else to look, Bruce glanced down the hall to his own room. The door was shut, but for the first time, he noticed a faint strip of light seeping from beneath. Could it be? He moved back to his bedroom and opened the heavy mahogany door to find Dick laying on his bed atop the covers.

"Hey, chum. What are you doing in here?" Bruce said softly as he approached the bed. He didn't want to risk startling the younger man. He felt relief sweep through him, thankful he had found Dick safe.

Rubbing his knuckles over his eyes, Dick squinted at him. "Oh, sorry. I was . . . I had a bad dream. I hoped you wouldn't mind."

"Of course not, son, but let's get you under the covers, shall we?" He waited until Dick was comfortable then sat beside him. "You want to talk about it?"

Dick hesitated, then shook his head. "No. I can barely remember it now. I-I just didn't want to be alone, you know?"

"Sure. I get that," Bruce smiled reassuringly, "although, if you wanted company, I'm surprised that you didn't go to one of your brothers' rooms while I was out." He stood up only to shrug off his robe, choosing to leave his sweatpants on under the circumstances.

"I-I just . . . I just wanted to feel safe." Dick stammered, trying to explain something that he didn't quite understand himself. "And this was the safest place I could think of."

Bruce nodded. "You're always welcome in here, Dick, anytime."

Heading over to the adjoining bathroom, Bruce moved to turn off the light, so he could finally climb into bed himself. He hesitated, however, when Dick held out a hand to stop him.

"Don't . . ." Dick whispered. "Please." It wasn't difficult to hear the note of panic that laced the younger man's voice.

"Any particular reason it needs to stay on?" Bruce asked, biting back a long-suffering sigh. Having a light on would make it harder to fall asleep.

"It . . .Um," he paused, clearly uncomfortable with what he had to say. "It was dark when . . ." Dick winced. "Well, you know."

Bruce blinked. "Dark." he murmured. Surely, he didn't mean . . .? Dick wasn't talking about . . . his death, was he?

Dick sighed. "You won't tell the others, will you?"

"Tell the others what exactly?" He asked, moving back to the bed.

"That I'm afraid of the dark now." Dick closed his eyes and shuddered. "I'm sorry. I'm disrupting your sleep. I should go back to my . . ." He started to slip out of the bed.

"No," Bruce interrupted, holding him in place with a hand. "No, you shouldn't. We can compromise." He then turned on the bedside lamp before flicking off the bathroom light.

"Isn't it brighter this way?"

"It is." Bruce agreed, slipping into the bed and getting comfortable. Then, stretching out an arm, Bruce pulled his son into his side.

It had been years since Dick had slept in his bed. Years since they had, he smirked a little at this, . . . cuddled. The last time, Dick had been fifteen, and came after the boy had gotten a snort full of Scarecrow's fear gas while Batman and Robin had been in the process of recapturing him. The gas had been made from a new serum and their antitoxin had proven to be ineffective. Although, Bruce had worked up a new antidote as soon as they had returned to the cave, it had needed time in order for it to take effect. In the meantime, the only method that had proven to lower the boy's heart rate and blood pressure had been being hugged by his guardian.

That had been a long night. This one looked as though it would be just as long.

"What's the compromise?" Dick asked him.

"I won't turn the light out until after you've fallen to sleep."

"Oh, well . . . um, okay," Dick agreed, but he didn't sound okay.

"I'm not leaving you, Dick. I'm going to be here holding you all night if that's what it takes," Bruce assured him.

"I'm too much trouble . . ." Dick said, pushing away.

Bruce pulled him back, shoving his head down on his shoulder. "It wasn't so long ago that I would have given anything . . . everything I owned, for you to be too much trouble just one more time." He hugged his son a little closer. "Relax. Sleep, Dick. I'm not going anywhere."

After a while, Dick's breathing evened out, eventually deepening into sleep. When Bruce was certain Dick wouldn't awaken at his movements, he reached over with one arm and switched off the light. He adjusted his position, wrapping his second arm around his boy and closed his eyes, counting his blessings. After all, it wasn't every day that death gave a man back his son.

He hadn't slept so soundly in months.

* * *

 **A/N sooooo what do ya think? Dickie and Bruce bonding! Have to love that.**

 **Thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed, and faved this fic. I love hearing from you guys!**

 **Thanks to the ever amazing Alex for helping me with my vision on this chapter.**


	9. Apropos

The two men entered the bar and looked around. The bar was dark, smoky, and the small bar was full of people who were already half drunk.

"Wally! Roy!" Donna Troy slid off the bar stool and met them halfway. "Where's Garth? Is he coming?"

Wally hitched a thumb over his shoulder, "Said he'd catch up with us. You know he wouldn't miss this," the speedster said as his companion leaned in to kiss their teammate on the cheek.

Roy frowned and looked at her. "Tears, gorgeous? You know he wouldn't have wanted that."

Donna brushed a hand over her cheek carelessly. "I know. It was a moment of weakness. Won't happen again."

Wally leaned in and hugged her. "Don't be stupid," he chided lightly. "It'll happen again - to all of us."

"Come on," Roy told them, heading deeper into the bar. "I see a table."

The two follow their archer friend to a large table with four chairs. He yanked a fifth from the table next to them and slid it into place. A waitress came over to take their orders as they sat down.

"Hi I'm Katie. Waiting for others?" she asked, noticing the extra chairs.

"Any minute now," Wally told her.

"Five beers," Roy ordered, holding up his hand, fingers spread wide. "One of them non-alcoholic."

As the waitress sidled away, Donna smirked at him. "Cutting back, Roy?"

Roy shrugged and checked his watch. "It's early yet. You know he doesn't drink until he's done for the night."

"Good point," Wally murmured as their expressions sobered.

"Looks like a wake," Garth said, finally joining them. He took off his jacket and draped it over his chair as he twisted it around and sat down, straddling it. "That IS what you land-lubbers call it, right?"

"Sorry," Wally nodded as he slapped their friend on the shoulder in greeting. "It's been six months, but it still feels a little raw, you know?"

The toughest part of Dick's death was that they couldn't mourn their friend and leader openly. They assumed that Bruce wasn't ready to admit to the world that his son was dead, not this close to Nightwing's disappearance. He was still a stickler about identities remaining secret. The funeral they had all attended had been private on the grounds of Wayne Manor, in the family's private cemetery. Only those in the know had attended, but the crowd had still been large. Nightwing had been a trusted comrade, leader, and friend in the hero community. Everyone loved him. Everyone grieved. Bruce had retreated after Dick's body had been interred into his study for the rest of the day with only the butler daring to enter the master's sanctum sanctorum. Tim had openly struggled to contain his emotions and play host, but it had been difficult when Jason and Damian had both been visibly seething in anger at their loss. If they had known who the murderer was, they would have been gone, out to seek vengeance and blood. They must have been busy hunting the bastard that did this because they hadn't seen Tim around much anymore. Jason either, for that matter, although Jay seldom came around much even before this happened. Of course, both of Dick's little brothers made life around the Tower uncomfortable. Any mention of Dick and the two of them would exchange looks and excuse themselves. Wally thought it was because they had lived in their elder brother's shadow for so long and, with his death, might have felt like Nightwing had become a martyr for the cause and become unattainable.

The waitress came back and handed the drinks out. "Who gets the non-alcoholic?" she asked, looking around at the group expectantly.

Garth took it and set it in front of the empty chair without being told. "It's too early yet for him to be drinking," he muttered.

The four of them lifted their mugs. "For Nightwing," Roy proclaimed under his breath. They were there as civilians, after all. "The best leader any group could want."

"To Dick," Wally said. "The best friend anyone could ever ask for."

"To Dick," Donna said. "The best listener any girl . . ." she glanced around the table, "or guy could have."

"To Dick," Garth added. "Always the smartest guy in the room."

His companions smiled at that. There was a reason he had always been their leader . . . even from day one. They drank to that and set their mugs down as their eyes settled on the empty chair and untouched drink.

"He should here," Garth growled low. It wasn't only Jason and Damian who wanted retribution. "Why didn't he call us? He had to have known all of us - ANY of us - would have dropped everything to come to his aid."

Roy hunched his shoulders. "It isn't fair. He would have done the same for us. He did do it for me - more than once!"

Donna dipped her head and brushed her hand across her face again. She had promised . . .

"Hey! If no one's going to use this chair, mind if I grab it?" A big guy asked grabbing the back of the empty chair in preparation of yanking it away.

"YES!" Garth and Donna slapped their hands down on the seat with surprising violence, making the man drop it abruptly.

Faced with four sets of glaring eyes, he held up his hands in surrender. "Whoa! Okay. Sheesh! Take it easy."

Roy scooted his chair back as if to stand. "Why don't you take a hike?" Wally's hand came down on his shoulder in an effort to keep their friend in his seat.

"It's for our friend," Donna sighed, explaining.

The man harrumphed. "Doesn't look like your friend is going to show," he grumbled and left.

Stricken, Donna turned around to face the others. "No . . . No, he's not," she whispered, heartbrokenly.

Garth snorted in amusement. "Nice moves there, West," he said. "That was usually Dick's job, keeping us all in line. Do you remember . . ."

* * *

Dick watched as Bruce left to get ready for work and picked up his book. He flipped through the pages absently for a while before setting it back down, preferring to stare out at the fog that had rolled in during the night.

"Master Dick?"

Dick looked over at Alfred standing in the doorway. He knew without saying that it would take an injury to get the older man to enter the room. Despite his protests that he understood and had forgiven him, Alfred refused to spend time with him alone since Dick had attacked him in a bout of insanity. It made him sad to know that he might have ruined his relationship with the man he had considered a grandfather. If he could only get those demons out of his head . . . the ones that had crept in apparently during his death.

Initially, he had thought they had come from the Lazarus Pit, but now he knew better. Dreams of shadowy figures amidst swirling colors, the smell of sawdust and animal excrement were more than just memories of his childhood, but they were interspersed with sounds of water lapping against the support posts of a wharf and the wind whipping through his hair atop buildings. It was confusing and he didn't know how they connected yet but he would. Bruce had told him how he died. Murdered. Stabbed in the back, the side, multiple injuries. The book he had been reading was indeed apropos to his situation.

"Apropos," he murmured.

"I beg your pardon?"

He gaped at the butler, startled. When had Alfred arrived? Then he remembered. He had gotten lost in his thoughts again.

"I'm sorry, Alfred. It's a word I read recently." Dick laid his hand on the book beside him as if providing proof so that old man would believe him.

Alfred nodded. "It is always a good thing to increase one's vocabulary," he agreed. "Do you know what it means?"

"'Relevant', I think," Dick replied.

"Indeed, young sir. That is one meaning," Alfred smiled.

"Did you need me for something?" he asked.

"Just checking on you," Alfred admitted. Of course . . . "The day is begun cold and damp. I wondered if perhaps you would be interested in a cup of hot chocolate to ward off the chill in the air? You used to enjoy that very much on cold days."

But, Dick had already returned his attention back to the view out the window. He watched at the swirling clouds drifting lazily along the ground, shrouding the manor's gardens from view, much like death had done to his memories. He frowned, losing himself back into thought. The fog seemed 'apropos' to the way he was feeling.

* * *

Alfred watched the young man who had embedded himself in the old man's heart all those years ago sadly. He missed the excitable, yammering, child-like joy that Dick had brought with him everywhere he went. Everything had been more interesting and enjoyable whenever Master Dick was around. It was a feature that the boy had never outgrown and the reason that people flocked to him, eager to be his friend . . . even those who found him to be exhausting still loved him being around.

Alfred turned away, returning to his duties in the kitchen, missing that wearying, bubbling, non-stop prattle more than ever. This intense and brooding young man, prone to unexpected outbursts of anger and violence that had been left in that lovely boy's place frightened Alfred, although he was determined to hide it.

One must only look to Master Jason, after all. Who had expected him to return to the family after his first year or so after his own emersion in that ghastly pit? They simply must give Master Dick the time to heal and recover, as well. Alfred simply refused to hurt that sensitive young man with the generous heart. He was certain that person still resided beneath the layers of barbarity, wrath, and temporary bouts of madness with glimpses of distrust and fear. Time - That was all they needed.

* * *

Dick wasn't sure when Alfred has left him but he was alone. That didn't happen very often unless he was locked in his room but, today he was and the morning beckoned. Taking advantage of the opportunity, he unlatched the window, sliding outside into the freedom and mystery that lay beyond the fog. Five steps later, the fog enveloped him and Dick disappeared.

The fog was so thick in the low places that he couldn't even see his feet, let alone see where they were leading him. Not that it mattered - he knew. It was the one place that he hadn't been allowed to go since he got back and never by himself. It made sense, though. Too dark, too depressing, he supposed, but he wanted to see it, the stone with his name on it. With his lifestyle, that it hadn't been erected sooner was more surprising. He thought about why Bruce had chosen to inter him here, in the family plot, rather than with his parents where they rest in the city. Was it because of how he died or who he had been when he had passed? The world still hadn't heard of the death of Dick Grayson, so Dick laid odds that it was because of the mask.

Everything was because of the mask.

The shapes of the gravestones and effigies appeared through the mist like ghosts of the souls laid to rest there. From their shapes, he could pick out several including the ones belonging to Thomas and Martha Wayne, the one placed there when they had believed Bruce had died - a victim of Darkseid's Omega Beams, and the gap where they had chosen to remove Jason's stone after his return . . . Dick stopped, blinking.

Someone was standing at his grave. The fog hid his identity, but not his shape. He frowned . . . Everyone in the family was either at the manor or on their way to work or school. Who could possibly break through the manor's security to reach the family plot without Bruce or Alfred being alerted? It could only be one of a few people, someone who could move faster than the sensors could detect.

The edges of his mouth lifted as the answer came to him.

"Wally?"

The figure stiffened in surprise as his head turned at the sound of his voice.

* * *

Wally stood staring at the name on the stone. He still couldn't believe it. Of all of them, Wally would have put his money on Roy finding his way to the grave before Dick. Roy moved through life almost carelessly, definitely recklessly, although that had changed somewhat since Lian had entered the archer's life. But, Dick? He still followed most of the rules Batman had set into place for him when he was nine years old, an effort the Bat had made to protect the child who's soul cried out for justice with the same intensity as his mentor's. But, unlike his mentor, Dick had still found joy in life. Lively where Bruce was brooding, he always moving whereas Batman remained still, blurting out jokes or puns when his dark partner preferred silence . . . Dick had been a bright spot in the dark night.

Of course, Dick wasn't that same bright child bursting with energy once he had grown up. His friend had taken on many of The Batman's attributes and had gotten a bit more serious once that he had gone off on his own but, as Wally stared at the finality of the stone in the quiet of the cemetery, he found he still couldn't wrap his mind around it. Dick didn't belong _here_. It was _too_ quiet. It was _too_ still . . .

The fog swirled between the stones, making eddies as the air current shifted. Something had made them move and this time, it hadn't been Wally.

He heard his name whispered in an all too familiar voice and he stiffened in surprise. The sun had barely risen enough to lighten the world, shadows still reigned, and the fog was heavy enough to send shivers down one's spine on this cold November morning. But, it wasn't the cold that caused the hairs on the back of Wally's neck to rise. He turned his head just enough to make out a shape in the mist in his peripheral vision, not big enough to be Bruce, not slender or tall enough to be Alfred.

Wally shook his head. His grief was making him see things. He should never have stopped by. He should have just gone home this morning after the late night reminiscing with the remaining Titans. He was hungry . . . Yes, _that_ was it. He was hungry and it was making him hallucinate. Turning on his heel, Wally ran, determined to get home and bury this memory in great swathes of food.

Or, that was what was supposed to have happened . . . had he not slammed into the apparition - _Hard_!

"Woo-oof!" he grunted on impact with the ground. Except, it wasn't the ground he had landed on. Wally stared down into the groaning face of his dead friend.

No apparition, a very solid Dick Grayson shoved Wally off him and leaned up on one elbow as he rubbed the back of his head. "What the hell, Wally? _Ow_!"

Gaping in shock, Wally scrambled to his feet in panic. "Dick! Yo-You're . . . _alive_?"

Dick grinned up at him and shrugged. "Surprise?"

"Surpr- . . .? What the hell, Dick? I saw you there - in the fucking casket - I cried tears over your very real corpse, damn you! I watched as they buried you, for Christ's sake!"

Dick's smile dimmed. "Jeez, Walls. Sorry to disappoint."

Wally shook his head, but his friend remained, sprawled on the cold wet ground in nothing but a pair of now-muddy jeans, a black t-shirt, and barefoot. This was no ghost and definitely not a hunger-induced hallucination. The shock of it made his head feel light and a little fuzzy. "What? Oh man, sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I was just . . . My God, is this real? Are _you_ real?"

"Your landing on me felt pretty darned real to me," Dick smirked.

"Oh yeah, sorry about that. I thought you were a hunger-induced hallucination," Wally said, sheepishly. He held out his hand, pulling Dick to his feet. Keeping hold of his friend's hand, Wally slapped him on the shoulder and held on. "I can't believe it. You're _alive_!" He started laughing suddenly and pulled Dick into a bear hug. "You're alive, oh my God!"

* * *

Dick stiffened in the embrace but didn't shove Wally away. Instead, taking a large breath, Dick forced his body to relax and allowed himself to hug the red-headed speedster back.

Wally finally released him, gaping into his face. "What happened? I _know_ that was you in that damn casket. How did you-? Oh my God, did Bruce-?"

"Not Bruce," Dick sighed. "My brothers happened. All three of them: Jason, Tim, and Damian."

"Don't tell me . . ."

Dick made an affirmative sound and turned his head, his fingers smoothing over the white streak in his hair that the pit had left him. "Lazarus Pit."

"Holy shit!" Wally touched the lock of hair before stepping back, his earlier joy replaced by something wary. "You're not, like, crazy now, are you? Like Jason was when he returned?"

Dick coughed lightly. "Getting better…but the morning cuppa java helps."

Running a hand through his red hair, Wally stared in awe. "You're alive."

Dick laughed. "You said that already. Several times, in fact."

"Last night, Roy, Donna, Garth, and I sat around drinking ourselves shitfaced and remembering all the times you've pulled our butts out of the fire," Wally grinned. A split second later, he gasped. "Oh, my god! Wait until they hear the news! They're gonna shit!" His grin reappeared as ideas started rolling through his brain. "Oh wait! We've got to have some fun with this. Garth believes in ghosts! We can scare the living shit out of him before we tell him the truth."

Dick sobered. "Wally, you can't tell anyone. Not yet."

Wally nodded. "Of course not! Not right away, at least," he grinned. "Wanna bet we can make Roy crap his pants! Donna would figure it out immediately, though, but we won't mess with her because, you know, Donna hits too hard," he remarked, rubbing a phantom-pain in his arm from some distant memory. "But, we can't wait _too_ long. That would just be cruel."

"No, Wally. I mean it. You can't tell anyone about me until I give you the go-ahead.

Wally frowned at this. "Dick, they're your friends. You can't keep this from them. They're in pain right now. They love you."

Dick winced. He didn't like this either, but there was mystery behind his death to solve first. "I'm sorry. I don't like it either, but it's important." Someone had murdered him. He just couldn't remember who had managed the deed, not yet, anyway.

"Not even Roy!?"

Dick looked at him. "No one."

"Dickie— Come on! It's Roy!" Wally sighed. "Not even Donna? Man, she's going to kick your ass for this, you know."

"You're just going to have to trust me," Dick insisted.

"Like you have to ask," Wally agreed reluctantly.

Of course," Dick's lips curled up in a smirk that Wally knew meant trouble. "We wouldn't be able to help it if one of them just so happens to run into me."

"I missed that smile," Wally grinned.

"I missed you, too," Dick said. "I miss everyone."

Wally glanced down at his not-dead friend's muddy feet. "Although, Alfred might kill you if the cold doesn't," he said, indicating Dick's bare feet. "Let's get you inside before you end up with pneumonia."

Dick looked down in surprise at the dewy grass peeking out from between his toes. "I didn't notice," he admitted.

"Are you serious?" Wally turned Dick around, shoving him back in the direction of the manor. "Not feeling the cold - Is this some kind of side effect from the Lazarus Pit, like the white streak of hair?"

"Don't know. I'll have to ask Jason," Dick said as he headed back the way he came.

The sun was higher now and the fog was thinning as the sun burnt it away. Dick glanced back at the cemetery. Visiting his grave would just have to wait for another day.

* * *

 **A/N: I know it's been a while since I have last posted. I just want to be sure it's perfect before I post it! Big shout out to Alex for helping me so much with this chapter. It's finally perfect, we worked hard on this chapter.**

 **ANYWAY! Soooo what do ya think?**

 **Thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed, and faved this fic! I love hearing from you. You guys rock!**


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